World War CoDZ
by CoDFicCentral
Summary: Sequel to "Trapped in Kino der Toten". Remember that blood Samantha took from that kid? Yeah, she has plans for it. I do not own: Call of Duty, Zombies, the Characters, Avenged Sevenfold,"Not Ready to Die", Treyarch, Activision, Germany, America, Russia, Alcatraz, weapons, yada yada yada. I only own my OC's. Enjoy!
1. Altering the Timeline

_Location: The Moon, Griffin Station_

 _Year: Classified_

"Und delete. Goodbye, Dr. Maxis," Doctor Edward Richtofen bid coldly to his employer.

"Security Override: Active," the machine before him announced.

The object, the Golden Rod, floating nearby was finished with whatever process it had just gone through, and Richtofen grabbed it greedily, caressing it with an insane grin.

"It's mine! It's finally _mine_!" he jeered.

Tank Dempsey furrowed his brow, only underwhelmed at what was unfolding before him. He knew what happened next. He knew his fate after Richtofen got ahold of the rod.

And as much as Dempsey wanted to stop it…

…he knew what came next would be worse.

It sucked, yeah. It was unfair, yeah. But did Treyarch care? Hell no.

They wanted a story, and he'd be damned if this wasn't a plot twist.

His comrades beside him, Takeo Masaki and Nikolai Belinski, seemed to read Dempsey's thoughts. They each nodded at each other as Richtofen cooed at the active Golden Rod, holding it like a baby.

"Quickly, mein friends! To zhe M.P.D.!" he said, marching toward the airlock and hopping down.

The others followed in suit. Once they returned to the pyramid where Samantha Maxis's body was suspended in mid-air, still clutching a raggedy teddy bear, they knew their end was approaching.

"Zhis is going to be so much fun! Finally we can confront zhis little beast. Quickly! Power up zhe machine!" Richtofen said, placing the Rod in its intended slot, right below the egg they'd been bouncing around for an hour.

Takeo, Dempsey, and Nikolai (who was sober), grimly nodded and filled up the tanks with Richtofen leading the charge.

Soon enough, the dreaded moment arrived as the machine beeped and the German retrieved the rod from the pyramid. He grinned evilly, putting his arms to his sides, palms outward, as if he was presenting himself as a God to peasants.

His world shook as he slowly began to feel himself drift out of his body.

He was so close…

But a voice stopped him dead.

It was chastising, like a parent to a child breaking a rule. But it was an all too familiar voice.

Samantha.

"Oh Edward!"

Richtofen's grin disappeared in an instant as his eyes opened in horror.

A chill went down each men's spine as her shrill voice had pierced the utter silence of space. It was in a sing-song voice, comparable to a sister calling out to her brother.

But damn if this was even close.

"Didn't your mother teach you **not steal others' toys**?"

Richtofen's expression turned to anger, before he was thrown back against the wall, as if a Thundergun had discharged in his direction, or an invisible giant fist had punched him in the gut.

He hit the wall with a loud thud, before angrily recovering.

Samantha, or perhaps, the M.P.D., wasn't finished, however.

A bolt of lightning emerged from the pyramid, striking Richtofen directly in the chest.

His body convulsed, his eyes and mouth being lit up like a Christmas tree, and his insides being cooked.

His body fried, and fell over onto the floor.

"Holy shit!"

"Doctor!" Takeo shouted, rushing over to the dead doctor.

He checked for a pulse. Nothing, obviously. His arteries had been fried.

There was no sign of life in the former scientist.

Knowing this, Takeo took the doctor's hand and prayed silently.

Nikolai looked on at a small horde approaching, refusing to look at the deceased German. Refusing to believe his… friend had died.

Dempsey, however, was emotionless.

He hated Richtofen.

But… emphasis on _hated_.

Now that the doctor was gone…. there was an emptiness. A void. Something that really couldn't be replaced.

For once, in his entire life, Dempsey appreciated Richtofen for what he did. When he helped. When he tricked. When he...

Well.

Even if his downfall had been so deserving.

Beeps and alarms blared throughout the station, interrupting all mourning and enforcing a malicious urgency.

Samantha did not announce it. She did not giggle.

She did not gloat.

Instead, she let her actions speak for her. Their fates were sealed.

It was only when the station shook that they three realized what the alarms had meant.

An anguished cry, not belonging to either of the three men, nor Samantha, echoed in the tunnels. It was distant, almost ethereal.

Everyone rushed outside to see three rockets heading full speed toward their home.

Earth.

As the rockets made contact, the Earth crumbled. It didn't break apart and deteriorate. No, it was gone from existence.

Dempsey could have laughed.

Dempsey could have cried.

Dempsey could have dropped dead.

Instead, he refused to bow.

Who was he kidding? Everyone he knew was dead. His child, his wife…..

It was pointless.

Takeo remained stoic. He swore to destroy Samantha.

All three men were silent. Whether it was for respect, or a loss of words, they didn't know. It just…. seemed wrong to talk right now.

Dempsey suddenly spun on his heel and left the group, walking to the pyramid and gazing at the demon child before him.

His eyelids were heavy. His feet had only carried him through sheer force of will.

He looked emptily around the room, and back at Samantha.

Takeo and Nikolai joined him, bearing the same empty look as they stared down the source of their misery. Dempsey halfheartedly threw his arms up, as if to gesture at the lack of activity in the space.

"Well…."

….

….

"What are you waiting for, little girl?"

….

There seemed to be no answer. Though, Dempsey was able to make out the slightest change of expression in the frozen girl's face. It was puzzling.

It was no look of empathy.

No look of satisfaction.

No look of boredom.

It was…. a look of regret.

But, as with all psychopaths, it quickly faded.

The familiar scream of zombies rang out as the three heroes turned around to face them.

Dempsey cast one last look at Richtofen's body, then at Samantha. He sighed through his nose and readied his weapon, turning his body back toward the enemy as he raised his arm and pulled the trigger.

" _You got what you wanted, little girl. Are you happy?"_


	2. Electric Ripple Effect

_Location: Berlin, Germany_

 _Wittenau Sanatorium_

 _Year: 1945_

"Fuck."

Yes. That was quite the appropriate response to your last chance of doing some good being utterly screwed over by machinery. _Fuck._

"It's stuck," Peter McCain clarified with incredibly poetry, staring at the dysfunctional power switch that wouldn't FUCKING move.

He knew the strike team sent for him wouldn't make it in time, so his only choice was to fight his way out.

The only problem was that the power switch was stuck, so he couldn't pull it to lock down the facility. Shit.

He sighed at the almost empty STG-44 in his hand, and realized that he basically failed.

Ah well. So much for being a hero.

Now to get the hell out of here.

He stood, contemplating how the hell this was gonna work.

He could die. Not the best option.

He could fight and die. Noble, but still no.

A horrifying screech echoed down the hallway, and he glanced at the fenced-in generator.

Perfect.

If he could cause a meltdown, the failsafe mechanism Group 935 had incorporated would kick in, resulting in all of the doors closing, and therefore, containing the zombies.

Ah hell, he knew that wasn't true. The bastards were coming from the outside, too. Oh well. Might as well go with protocol.

He let out a short controlled burst fire from the muzzle of his STG into the chain-link fence. It snapped about three of the links, enough to fit a frag grenade.

Great. Now all he had to do was pull the pin, lob it in there, and GTFO.

But unfortunately, as he made a sprint for it after pulling the pin, he was held up by a crowd.

Despite his efforts, he was pushed back as the grenade went off and the generator angrily sparked and sputtered blue electricity.

Before he knew it, he was getting pushed into what was left of the fence, and finally into the generator itself.

Peter McCain does not taste good fried.

 _Location: Washington, D.C._

 _The Pentagon_

 _Year: 1963_

John F. Kennedy never thought he'd be fighting zombies while he was in office in the Pentagon.

But of-fucking-course he ends up doing it anyway.

One minute, he's discussing the Cuban Missile Crisis with Fidel Castro, Robert McNamara, and Richard Nixon. The next, zombies breach the place, killing everyone but them.

Shit.

"This is madness!" Castro yelled as he reloaded his Cobra.

"Mr. President, are you alright? Do you need a Max Ammo?" McNamara asked in concern as Kennedy showed signs of being empty.

"It's fine," Kennedy responded. He unholstered his Winter's Fury as his China Beach became useless. "My Beach may be out, but I still have my freeze ray."

Nearby, Nixon was doing his best to fight off a horde. As comical as it was, it was a problem.

"HIPPIES EVERYWHERE!" he shouted.

Kennedy pulled out his Winter's Fury, firing into the crowd, when he heard Nixon scream.

"JACK! HELP!"

He looked over the catwalk to the lower labs as he saw Nixon being overrun in the center of the War Room.

Nixon was ripped limb from limb. No revival.

"Mister President! We have to get out of here! My country needs me!" Castro boasted.

McNamara looked over in Castro's direction, seeing a Creepy Crawler about to jump on his back.

"Look out!" Kennedy yelled.

He was too late, because the Crawler had jumped onto his back. As the Cuban tried desperately to fight it off, going as far as to slam into a few walls, he soon realized his death was imminent.

His neck was bleeding profusely as he finally resolved to jab the crawler with his cigar, burning and incapacitating the jockeying zombie.

He held his neck in pain as he began to choke.

Yep. He was definitely fucked now.

Knowing this, he pulled the pin on his grenade and collapsed onto the floor, coughing up blood as he was surrounded.

 _Boom._

Damn.

Castro did not simply go down. Like the late Nixon, he was _gone_. No morphine could fix _that_ shit.

"Better early then never, I suppose…" McNamara tried to point out.

"Something isn't right! We should have been able to revive them!" Kennedy said, ignoring his secretary's joke.

McNamara nodded and fired his Raid at anything that came close, but was forced to leave Kennedy.

He ran around the catwalk, smack into the Double Tap Root Beer machine. He swerved around it to a DEFCON switch, trying to reactivate the Panic Room.

Instead, he was caught by a crawler, and a nearby zombie slammed his head into the switch, piercing his skull as well as frying his head.

Kennedy was all that was left.

"And so one remains…" he muttered somberly.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and as illogical as it was to turn around expecting a human being to be staring him in the face, he did so anyway.

Instead of stealing his weapon, he punched Kennedy right in the jaw, causing him to stumble, tripping over a crawler, and being ripped open by the remaining zombies.

 _Location: Siberia, Russia_

 _Year: 2011_

"George is here!" Sarah Michelle Gellar called to Robert Englund as she fired her Wunderwaffe DG-2 at the sprinting zombies emerging from behind the director.

"That's just great!" Robert said sarcastically. "Danny! We gotta go get Michael!"

"He can take care of himself! We need to get outta here," Danny Trejo called back from down the stairs, right past the MP40.

There were all on the ship, with Michael Rooker pinned down under in the water where the Pack-a-Punch was just a short time ago.

"Come on! You all wanna die? Come get me!" Michael yelled, sprinting up the stairs toward Juggernog. He backed up against the machine.

"Let's go!" he yelled as his Predator tore into the zombies' guts. "You fuckers wanna tussle? C'mon!"

He expertly, firing his last magazine, before being consumed by the crowd of undead.

Robert was killing every zombie coming his way with his newly-bought sickle. He had decapitated a few zombies that were trying to rip his head off, but the job wasn't getting any easier.

A crowd was coming at him from the hill, angry and ridiculously fast. He let loose barrage of lasers from his Lamentation, running away and giving a zombie a good kick in the balls as he continued to the ship.

He made his way round to the back of the ship, bracing against the creaky and rusty wall.

Soon the horde cornered him, making him almost go down, to the point that anything more than a slap on back would do him in.

He leaned further as continued firing, getting rid of the rape crowd from before, when he heard a concerning noise.

The next thing he knew, his support was gone and he was falling.

And after that, a hard, cold impact.

Trejo always wanted to go out in style, and he knew if he was dying here, he was going to do just that.

He had rushed to the top of the lighthouse (after a short mourning of Robert's death), right in front of Deadshot Daiquiri. He set up claymores next to him, one for each side, and fired his Scavenger at any zombie (excluding George) trying to get to the entrance.

A zombie came up behind him, dying from the claymore. Then another from the other side. And the horde was right behind it.

Danny knew he was about to die, and even though he didn't have PhD Flopper, he fired his last bullet into the ten zombies right next to him, and he achieved what he wanted to.

To go out in style.

 _Boom._

Sarah, being the only one left, was under a lot of pressure. Everyone was dead, she was surrounded, and George was now right on her tail. The only good thing was that her Wunderwaffe still had plenty of ammo.

She unleashed the electric death into the multiple hordes trying to reach her, and as she sprinted near Quick Revive, she failed to notice she was heading straight for George.

Making impact with him, and effectively angering him, she ducked as the director's mighty stage light swung past her.

…..and then right back, into her face.

She blindly fired her Wunderwaffe, the electricity hitting the bulb of the stage light and causing an explosion.

George was knocked back, but Sarah had been toppled over completely into the water. Her whole world was an icy blue, and she couldn't move. The cold mud and sand was keeping her from coming back up. She was drowning.

She struggled and screamed, but still couldn't move. She could hear the distorted laughing of George from the surface, right before she felt a surge of electricity go through her body.

 _Location: Southwestern Angola_

 _Resolution 1295/Processing_

 _Year: Classified_

"Come at me, freaks!" Abigail "Misty" Briarton taunted, launching shells into the surrounding zombies' skulls from her Remington 870.

Misty was good at this job, and she had shown it over the past few weeks. She may have been the only girl in the group, but damn if she wasn't the best. And since she was holding her own in a courthouse, that case was put to rest.

Samuel J. Stuhlinger didn't have similar luck. His Remington Model New Army was running out of ammo, and several ghosts and zombies were chasing him through the maze. Not really dangerous, just annoying.

 _Really_ fucking annoying.

As in, to the point that he wanted to yell "Fuck you" to everyone and everything.

Russman, however, was happy with his situation; parked next to Juggernog, firing his Dystopic Demolisher at each group coming near him. The only problem was Marlton Johnson's headshots messing up the train.

Marlton was on the ledge with his DSR-50 being put to great use.

And that use was incredible headshots.

The zombies had become less plentiful due to everyone's efforts, and Marlton could make out Misty running towards him and Russman. Stuhlinger was right behind her.

"Zombies on my tail! Get ready to fight!" Misty called out, sliding to a stop in front of the ledge.

Marlton nodded, reloading and lobbing a grenade towards where the horde was. Samuel and Russman moved to the ledge with him, guns blazing.

They fought for a good five minutes before Misty was overpowered.

"Help!" she cried out. But instead of going down, they ripped her apart.

Marlton's world froze as he saw his crush get torn to bits.

And an anger inside him was unleashed.

He whipped out his Ray Gun, screaming as he jumped into the horde, firing.

He then promptly died immediately after this.

"Brave," Russman admired.

"Stupid," Samuel scoffed.

The zombies had worked their way up to them by this time, and Samuel drew his Ray Gun Mark II, viciously firing into the crowd as Russman took out his Paralyzer.

Samuel was grabbed from behind, causing him to fall off onto the hard wooden floor, cracking his head open. Leroy, the name they'd give the giant man, who was nearby, saw this and ran back into his cage.

"Stu!" Russman shouted. He jumped off the ledge while firing at the floor, hovering above the cadavers below him.

He dodged everything a man his age could, but was soon shoved against the switch in the power room as he fired his Paralyzer.

Unfortunately, one cowboy zombie broke past it and slammed Russman's spine into the switch, frying his nerves as he was killed.

 _Location: San Francisco Bay, USA_

 _Alcatraz Island_

 _Year: 1933, New Year's Eve_

"Weasel! Would you hurry up?" Billy Handsome said impatiently as he ascended the staircase to the rooftop. "You're taking too fucking long!"

"You can't just put together a plane in five seconds, Billy. Christ," Albert "The Weasel" Arlington replied, laying out the clothes on the skeleton of the biplane.

Salvatore "Sal" DeLuca emerged from downstairs with Michael "Finn" O'Leary behind him.

"The plane almost done yet?" Sal asked, his Speakeasy being gripped firmer than a pair of boobs.

"I've been telling this moron to hurry up, but we've been here ten minutes," Billy explained, shouldering his Blundergat.

Finn bristled. "One thing I learned in gambling is patience, Billy. It's not his fault the plane broke apart and we have to rebuild it," the Irishman advised, spinning the chamber on his Voice of Justice with his thumb.

They'd been crashing into the bridge over and over again on the plane, and had to refuel it every time. But the last time, the plane wasn't there anymore, so they had to venture out again just to rebuild it.

Ain't that a bitch?

"There. Now we just have to let it all settle in since the magic isn't working anymore," Weasel said, setting both hands on a wing and pushing downward slightly for a structural check. He got up and nodded affirmatively, retrieving his Porter's X2 Ray Gun from the floor.

"We gotta wait? That's not a smart thing to make me do, Weasel," Billy said threateningly. "Don't make us kill you again."

Al smirked. He knew they needed him, so for the time being, he was safe. They'd recently found out they were dead, and that the rest had killed him.

The rest wasn't that complicated, other than the fact that after being sentenced to death, the other three had joined him in the afterlife and starting this bullshit hell cycle.

He wasn't sure what they were planning, but for the time being, he was sure they would spare him.

For now.

Everybody went back downstairs as Billy stomped on the crawler's head. Weasel stayed behind, standing next to the box they used to go into Afterlife.

His plan was to grab it when he was surrounded so he wouldn't lose his perks. Smart.

This wasn't exactly a stock plan, however, as he immediately had to put it into action.

He instantly felt himself leave his body, turning into a "ghost" as far as he knew, even though they were already dead.

How does that work?

Instead of hanging around to see what the zombies had in store for him, he went to the roof, hopping on the plane to pass time as he hoped the horde would fuck off.

Instantly, Billy, Sal, and Finn all collapsed where they were.

They were each on the plane, similar to before, except in Afterlife.

The plane sounded its alarm as usual, and it took off. And, as expected, it crashed into the bridge. They recovered, only to find their bodies waiting for them in the electric chairs.

They revived themselves, and Sal, Billy, and Finn all pointed their guns at Weasel.

"Huh? What's going on? Not again, guys!" Weasel questioned, outraged.

The other three fired their weapons at Weasel, but the projectiles from their guns stopped in midair, inches from Weasel, who was shielding himself with his arms.

He peeked from the protection of his forearms, only to be as confused as his attackers.

"How the-"

"FATE ISN'T DONE WITH YOU!"

They all jumped at the brash, thunderous voice, only to see a Brutus fall from the sky, landing on the Pack-a-Punch machine, crushing it.

Weasel let out a whimper as he nearly collapsed in grief.

He grabbed all four of them by the shirt at once, shoving them back into the chairs. They were automatically strapped in and immobilized, no matter how much they struggled.

Brutus raised his baton high, and brought it down several times on the chairs, the backed away. They were heavily damaged, and would blow out at any second.

Then, lightning came from the sky, hitting the bridge and striking the chairs.

They blew up in an electric explosion, taking out an entire portion of the bridge, causing it to give way and fall into the icy waters below.


	3. Logic Out the Window

**Sorry guys. You probably want to shoot me. Sorry! I just wasn't sure if this would be good enough, but here it is!**

 **Oh, and just a heads-up, I am not including Origins characters or the OG Marines (even though I wuv them!).**

 **And one more thing…**

 **Whoever said this was a self-insert?**

 _Reality_

 _Location: Central America_

 _Year: 2015_

Dempsey was flung into a wooden wall, nearly knocked unconscious. He got up, rubbing his head.

"Agh….. that hurt. Shouldn't of gone kamikaze," he muttered.

He looked around, seeing he was in a small room. And the wall he crashed into wasn't a wall. It was the side of a bed. And he wasn't in a small room. It was a small bedroom.

"What in the?"

Just then, a large object that smelled like alcohol slammed right into the bed next to Dempsey.

"Ugh. Hangovers suck," Nikolai said, getting up.

"You have any idea how we got here?" Dempsey asked the drunk Russian.

Nikolai raised an eyebrow with a look that said "what do you think?"

"Right. Drunk," Dempsey said.

"WAAUGH!" somebody yelled, followed by a THUMP.

Dempsey turned to see Takeo on his knees, struggling to get up. He offered him a hand as Nikolai smirked at the Jap, returning to his seemingly un-openable bottle of vodka.

Takeo reluctantly took it and got up.

"Thanks," he said, dusting himself off.

" _Dempsey?"_

"Huh?" Dempsey turned around to see a familiar face peeking from the other side of the bed. The person got up.

There, stood Jakob James, the teen they'd met in Kino der Toten.

"Kid? How'd you end up here?" Dempsey asked, looking him over. "You look shorter."

"Uh..." Jakob trailed off.

"Huh? Why are ya so nervous?" Dempsey asked.

"The question is, how'd you get here?" Jakob asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Uh, in case you haven't noticed, this isn't a place you'd normally end up. This is my house…." Jakob said.

"Huh?"

"He is right. This place is too small for Nikolai! I need open space! And open vodka bottle!"

"Yeah….. you're sort of in the real world."

Dempsey's eyes widened as he took as seat on the bed. He ran his hand on the fabric, noticing a red and blue figure on the covers, as well as the word "Spider-Man" (fight me, haters!).

He rested his head on his hands.

"One minute I'm going kamikaze, the next, I end up in the real world," Dempsey muttered.

Takeo and Nikolai stood awkwardly.

"Huh? Oh, you guys can take a seat too, if you can find one," Jakob said.

Takeo nodded sat cross-legged where he stood, and Nikolai just sat down next to Dempsey on the bed, taking an unusual sip of vodka.

"What do you mean kamikaze?" Jakob asked.

"Well, Richtofen was trying to pull something, and the next thing we know, he's turned into a pile of ashes. Then the rockets launched and hit Earth. Then, well, I lost it," Tank explained.

"Wait, what?!" Jakob said, alarmed. "That's not supposed to happen!"

"Well, what is supposed to happen?" Tank questioned.

"Doc and Samantha are supposed to switch bodies, and then Maxis tells you to blow up Earth to minimize Richtofen's damage. But the calculations are off. You wipe out most of humanity, then he laughs, and you guys fight forever," Jakob explained.

"Well that's a sucky plot!" Dempsey complained.

"Hey! I got it open! This calls for drink!"

"So how'd you…. oh no," Jakob began, ignoring Nikolai.

"What?"

Jakob got up and paced in thought in the small space. "When Samantha took my blood, she must have been planning to go into the real world, like you guys just did," Jakob said.

Dempsey pondered for a moment.

"How'd you two die?" Jakob asked Takeo and Nikolai.

"Honorably. I used my Cobra and katana," Takeo said.

"I used broken bottle and German grenade to go out in blaze of vodk - er….. glory," Nikolai said, reaching for another bottle from his bag.

Dempsey looked in front of him, noticing a small TV, probably Jakob's. It's screen was flat, and there was a big hole in the middle of it. Whatever was on the screen before was distorted. Then a light flashed inside.

Richtofen, unscathed, came flying out of the TV, his head slamming into Dempsey's stomach.

Richtofen muttered and pushed his head up, coming face to face with the infuriated marine.

"Uh oh," Richtofen said in a small voice.

Dempsey thrust his open hand into Richtofen's throat, pulling out his M1911 and putting it against the insane doctor's temple.

"WHAT DID YOU MAKE US DO, KRAUT?!"

Richtofen's eyes widened, and he looked like he was about to cry.

"I... I….." Richtofen began.

"Jakob? What's going on up there?" a woman's voice said.

"Who's that?" Dempsey whispered.

"My mom," Jakob said.

"Jakob!"

"Nothing! Everything's fine!"

"Come out here for a second!" she called.

"Stay here," Jakob whispered.

Everyone nodded, and Dempsey immediately returned to questioning Richtofen at gunpoint, quietly.

Jakob walked to the balcony, facing downstairs. He saw his mother standing up with her hands on her hips.

"Who are you talking to?"

"My friends," Jakob said truthfully.

"Who?"

Jakob didn't get to answer when he heard Richtofen scream, as well as the sound of him being beaten up.

"Who's that?!" his mother demanded to know.

"Uh, Eddie," Jakob lied.

"You've never mentioned him before," she prodded.

"He-"

"NEIN! GET ZHAT KNIFE AVAY FROM ME!" Richtofen yelled, running past Jakob into the office.

"Who was that!?" his mother exclaimed.

"Calm down!"

"No! Somebody is in here!"

"Calm. Down," he said.

"Not until you tell me who that was!"

"That was Richtofen," Jakob said.

"Who?"

"Dr. Edward Richtofen," Jakob said.

"Did he say he was a doctor? He's probably lying-"

"No. He's a doctor," Jakob said.

His mom sniffed the air.

"Why do you smell like vodka?!"

"Did somebody say VODKA?!" Nikolai said with glee, rushing to the balcony.

"WHAT IS GOING ON!?" Jakob's mother yelled.

Tank and Takeo came to the balcony as well.

"WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?!"

"I can explain, if you calm down," Jakob soothed.

His mother didn't consent, pulling him close and looking fearfully at the men.

"Why are your friends grown men? I want them out of here," she said.

"They're from my game," Jakob said.

"What? Cosplay?"

"No. Real," Jakob said.

"Get them out of here."

"You have to listen," Jakob said.

She looked up at Dempsey and Nikolai.

"I don't want vodka in my house," she said.

Nikolai frowned.

"Now who the heck are these people?" she said.

"They're my friends," Jakob repeated.

"You don't know that. What are their names? They might be lying to you-"

"They're not kidnappers!" Jakob said, ending the danger scare. "Christ."

"Well, who are they?" she asked again.

"Guys, come down," Jakob said.

Dempsey, Takeo, and Nikolai descended the stairs. Well, Nikolai stumbled down the stairs, but you get the point.

Jakob's mother pulled him behind her when the three men came down, but he shook away.

"You too, Richtofen!" Jakob called.

"Nein! Dempshey vill kill me!" Richtofen called back down from behind the locked door.

"He will if you don't get out here!" Jakob bluffed.

They heard the door unlock and the knob slowly turn. Richtofen emerged and came to the balcony.

"Now vat?" he said irritably.

"Get down here," Jakob said impatiently.

"Fine! Fine," Richtofen said, coming down with his arms crossed. His right arm covered his swastika because of this. "But Dempshey can't come vithin five feet of me!" Jakob noticed he had a black eye.

Jakob looked at Dempsey, and the marine nodded reluctantly.

"Now. Explain what is going on!" Jakob's mother said, backing away and moving to a chair.

Jakob took a deep breath. "Remember when I was gone for about five hours and you couldn't find me?"

"Yes. I nearly called the police," she said.

"I was sucked into the game, where I met these guys," Jakob said.

His mother look confused. Then she noticed the M1911's holstered on each soldier. Then she noticed their knives, as well as Takeo's katana.

"Why do they have weapons?" she asked.

"They're soldiers," Jakob said.

"Huh?" she asked.

Jakob looked over at Dempsey.

"This is Dempsey. Tank Dempsey. He's a marine," Jakob said as Dempsey extended his hand.

She reluctantly shook it.

"I am Masaki Takeo, samurai and Japanese Captain," Takeo said, bowing. "Your son has much honor."

"Thank you?" she said awkwardly.

"I am Nikolai Belinski, and I love vodka," Nikolai said dumbly, raising his hand as if he were in elementary school introducing himself.

Dempsey smacked him on the back of the head.

"Ow! Fine," Nikolai said, grabbing the back of his head. "Your son is good person, miss."

Jakob's mother refused to shake Nikolai's hand for obvious reasons.

All that was left was Richtofen.

"I'm Doctor Edward Richtofen," he said, shaking her hand. His arm had moved just enough to show the swastika on his arm.

She jumped back in disgust. Richtofen flinched.

"Why is there a Nazi in our house?!" she yelled.

"Calm down," Jakob repeated.

"I assure you, ma'am, zhat I am not part of zhe SS. I vas forced to wear this badge because of Germany's situation. Hitler vas scum," Richtofen explained, pointing in disgust at the armband.

"Drafting?" she asked.

"No," Richtofen said. "The world's worst boss."

Everybody in the room but her knew he was talking about Maxis, not Hitler.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Okay. Is that better?" Jakob asked her.

"No, your dad doesn't know what's going on, and frankly, I still don't," she said.

They heard a loud noise coming from past the kitchen, and heard three beeps. The door there opened.

"Hello? I'm home," a man's voice called out.

A man stepped into view with a confused look on his face.

"Why are there uniformed men in here?" he asked, looking at Dempsey, Takeo, Nikolai, and Richtofen. He sniffed the air. "And what smells like alcohol?"

Jakob quickly explained to him what he had to his mother earlier. He had a calmer reaction, but still in disbelief. And, of course, his reaction to Richtofen's swastika was similar, but less hostile.

"So let me get this straight," he began. "This is the Dempsey you talk about all the time in your game? And these other three are the same characters with him?"

Jakob nodded.

"Well," he began, turning to Richtofen. "What do you guys want?"

"Zhat's zhe problem, sir," the German responded. "Ve don't vant anyzhing. Ve don't know vhere ve are."

"We don't know how we got here," Dempsey added.

"We barely know what's going on," Takeo said.

"I never know where I am," Nikolai stated drunkenly. Dempsey slapped him in the back of the head again, causing Nikolai to grab it and curse.

Then, they heard a strange sound coming from upstairs, and then a man's voice.

"Agh! Where am I? Man, that shock hurt," the voice said.

"I'm going up there," Jakob announced.

"No you're not! You're staying down here until I figure out who these people are!" his mother whispered angrily, grabbing his arm.

"No. I'm going up there," Jakob responded firmly, pulling away.

Jakob crept upstairs to see a familiar-looking man in his room, looking around curiously. He eventually noticed the confused teen.

"Who are you?" he asked. "Do you know where I am?"

"The USA," Jakob said. "Who are YOU?"

"USA? I was just in Germany!" the man said.

Jakob shrugged. "Now, who are you?"

"I'd like to know your name first," the man said cautiously.

Jakob sighed and said his name.

"Okay. I'm Peter," the man said.

Jakob's eyes widened. "Peter McCain?"

"Yes? Do I know you?"

This couldn't be Peter! He wasn't missing an arm!

"That can't be. You have both your arms," Jakob stated.

"Why wouldn't I have both my arms?" Peter asked in a confused voice. "Do you know me?"

"Yes," Jakob said. "Let me guess, you came here from Wittenau Sanatorium in Germany, correct?"

Peter put a hand on his Colt.

"Too good for a guess."

"I've studied up on you," Jakob explained, trying not to sound like a stalker.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Are you a stalker or something?"

"No. You're in reality right now," Jakob said.

"What do you mean 'reality'?" Peter asked.

"You're not real. You're a character designed by a company that makes games," Jakob explained awkwardly.

Peter threw back is head and laughed. "Not possible. Now, tell me how to get out of here," Peter pointed his pistol at Jakob.

"Uh, Dempsey?" Jakob called over his shoulder.

Peter instantly lowered his pistol.

"Did you just say 'Dempsey'?" Peter asked. "As in 'Tank Dempsey'?"

"Yeah. What's it to you?"

"He was the leader of the strike team that was supposed to extract me from the asylum," Peter explained. "Is he here?"

Dempsey came up the stairs, seeing Peter and Jakob. Peter looked past the teen at Dempsey.

"Corporal Dempsey?" Peter asked, holding out his hand.

"Yes. Do I know you?" Dempsey asked, awkwardly shaking the OSS operative's hand.

"I'm Peter. You were supposed to extract me from the asylum," Peter explained.

Dempsey rubbed his head as if he had a headache. "Christ…. that was so long ago. Wait, you're dead! We found you hanging in Shi No Numa with a missing arm!"

"What are you talking about?!" Peter asked, alarmed about being told of his supposed death.

"That was seventy years ago," Dempsey continued. "You're dead."

"Huh?"

"Peter, that was 1945. This is 2015," Dempsey said.

"What?! What about the others? Smokey? John Banana?" Peter asked.

Dempsey shook his head sadly. "They never made it."

Peter frowned.

Dempsey continued. "I got mixed up with this German named Richtofen and some teleporters that could time travel and stuff-"

"Did you say Richtofen? Edward Richtofen?"

"Uh, yeah," Dempsey said.

"Is he here too? I was supposed to contact him before all Hell broke loose," Peter said.

"Too late for that," Jakob remarked.

Peter smirked.

Dempsey remembered the radio message in Shi No Numa from Peter's handler. He snapped his fingers.

"Right. Your handler was trying to send you a message," Dempsey said.

"Another one? Jesus. He's sent me about three already. Not very good at keeping it subtle," Peter said.

Jakob was trying to make sense of what was happening.

"Wait, so you came here from Verrückt. What happened? Didn't you go to the Rising Sun Facility?" he asked.

"That was my plan, once I locked down the place. I got ambushed and pushed into the generator," Peter explained. "Now what's this about this being reality?"

"There's a company called Treyarch that makes games. Call of Duty: World at War is one of them. You're from that game," Jakob said.

Peter took a seat on the bed, trying to comprehend what was being told to him.

"'World at War', huh?" Peter said. "Sounds fitting."

Jakob shrugged and nodded.

"Can I speak to Doctor Richtofen?" he asked suddenly.

"Uh, sure," Jakob said. Then he called downstairs. "Richtofen! Get up here!"

"Vat is it now?" Richtofen asked as he ascended the steps. "I zhink your mother was just starting to not hate me-"

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Peter.

"Peter? I thought you vere dead!" Richtofen said in an almost disappointed tone.

"Well, I'm not. I need to talk to you," Peter said.

"You guys can go into the other room if you need to talk," Jakob said, pointing to the guest room.

Peter nodded as he went into the room, Richtofen close behind. They began talking, though Jakob couldn't understand it with all the scientific mumbo jumbo being used. He was smart, be he didn't know anything about the kind of stuff they were talking about.

He caught Dempsey looking at the wall.

"That's a lot of awards," Dempsey said.

"Yeah. All from Elementary School," Jakob said.

"Huh? All of this?" Dempsey said in a surprised voice.

"Yeah. I have more, but they wouldn't fit on the wall," Jakob said with a shrug. "I have one from the president, a few formal invitations to academic events, stuff like that. Don't really think much of it these days."

Dempsey looked surprised.

They saw the guest room door open. Peter emerged with an unreadable expression, and Richtofen came out as well, with an angry look on his face.

"What happened?"

Richtofen growled and muttered something before storming off back downstairs. Jakob turned to Peter.

"He told me everything," he said. "I didn't expect it, but I'm not exactly surprised. I knew from the first moment I met him that he could crack, just like that."

"You didn't want to put a bullet in his head?" Jakob asked.

"He didn't succeed, did he? If he does pull something, I'll reconsider my decision," Peter said.

Jakob nodded. "Why's he mad?"

"He didn't want to explain everything," Peter said.

"Yeah. Er, I need you to meet the rest of us," Jakob said.

"The rest?" Peter asked.

Jakob nodded.

After the introductions were out of the way and everyone was downstairs, Jakob's mother got to questioning.

"Now, Doctor…. Richtofen, was it?" she began.

"Correct, ma'am," Richtofen said.

"Okay. Why is this happening? I've heard somewhat about your mental history," she said, glancing in a sheepish looking Jakob's direction. "And I don't want you near my son."

"I-" he began.

"You better tell the whole truth, Richtofen. No lies or tricks. Dempsey is still happy to blow your brains out," Jakob reminded with a serious tone, tilting his head to Dempsey, who was seated in a recliner near the fireplace, his hand laying near his M1911. "I'll happily take part in it, too."

"Jakob!" his mother scolded at the threat.

Richtofen was about to speak when he was interrupted again.

"Don't lie, Doctor. Don't push my trust," Peter said, who was leaning against the wall, his hand also on his M1911. In fact, even Takeo and Nikolai were ready to draw their pistols. "I'll shoot if I have to, Edward. Friend or not."

Richtofen gulped and told Jakob's parents everything. Samantha, his plan, what was happening. Took a good hour, too.

"You're psychotic," Jakob's mother said.

"Danke," Richtofen said, earning a strange look from her. "Er, I mean, I know. Es tut mir Leid."

"Huh?" his mother said.

"He said he's sorry," Jakob translated, arms crossed.

"I did vat I did for science, but zhen my own insanity influenced my misdeeds," Richtofen finished.

They heard a thump coming from upstairs.

" _Another one?"_ Jakob thought.

"Ouch! What-? Where am I?" a Boston voice said.

Jakob signaled for everyone to stay downstairs as he ascended the steps despite his mother's protests.

Before him stood John F. Kennedy, looking around curiously. Jakob cleared his throat, causing Kennedy to notice him.

"Hello, Mr. President," he said.

"Er, hello. Do you know where I am?" Kennedy asked.

"Yes sir. You're in the USA, in my room," Jakob said.

"Oh. Do you know how I got here?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, how?"

"I'll have to explain later-"

Jakob was interrupted when Robert McNamara tumbled out of the TV.

"Ugh," McNamara said, rubbing his head and getting up. He noticed Kennedy. "Mr. President, are you okay?"

"I'm fine-"

"AGH!" Fidel Castro said as he flew out of the TV onto Jakob's small bed.

Castro rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the smirking McNamara.

"Who needs help now, Fidel?" McNamara said sarcastically.

"Very funny. Help me up."

McNamara did so, and that's when Richard Nixon came out of the screen.

"Ow!" he mumbled. "Stupid hippies ambushed me."

"You okay, Dick?" Kennedy asked.

"Besides the fact I was ripped apart by zombies, I'm doing fine," Nixon said sarcastically. "Where are we?"

"The USA. This boy was just about to tell us how we got here," Kennedy said, pointing to Jakob.

"Um, yes. You'll have to follow me," Jakob said awkwardly. "You'll have to meet a few people."

"Sounds reasonable. Just hope this isn't a political stunt," Kennedy muttered.

He led them downstairs where everyone was.

"President Kennedy?!" Jakob's mother exclaimed. "But you're-"

"Stop!" Jakob interrupted. "We'll tell him later."

Kennedy raised an eyebrow.

"I want Castro and Nixon OUT!" Jakob's mother said. "Why are they in our house?!"

"Zhe same reason ve're here."

Everybody looked at the fireplace where Richtofen stood, faced away from them and examining the pomander ball on the hearth.

"What?" Jakob asked.

Richtofen turned around and cleared his throat. He ignored Jakob's question and walked over to Kennedy. He extended his hand.

"I am Dr. Edward Richtofen," he said. "A wretched girl sent us here, and I believe you're here for the same reason."

"President Kennedy. Nice to meet you," Kennedy said, noticing the swastika on Richtofen's arm. His eyes widened.

"I thought we took care of you in the war!" Kennedy said, springing away from him and drawing his M1911.

"Nein! Don't shoot! I can help you!" Richtofen said, putting his hands up with genuine fear in his eyes.

Kennedy narrowed his eyes and holstered his pistol.

They heard another thump upstairs, and this time is sounded like something broke.

"Who could it be this time?!" Jakob muttered.

He told everybody to stay downstairs and went up the steps.

There stood Danny Trejo, along with a busted knob on one of the drawers.

"This doesn't look like Siberia," he said. Then he looked down at the covers. "Why is there Spider-Man on here?"

He noticed Jakob and had a surprised look on his face.

"Who're you?" Danny asked.

"Who're YOU?" Jakob asked, though he already knew.

"Huh? You don't recognize me?" Danny asked, confused that somebody wouldn't know him.

"I do," Jakob said. "I'm just messing with you."

Danny narrowed his eyes and smirked.

The television sparked to life again, sending Michael Rooker into Danny's stomach.

"Agh, Jesus!" Michael said, grabbing the top of his head that'd made impact.

"Watch where you're flying, Michael!" Danny said, clutching his stomach in pain.

And if that wasn't worse, Robert Englund popped out of the TV too, making a small dent in the wooden foundation of Jakob's bed.

Robert didn't say anything, but just grabbed his head in pain.

"You okay?" Danny asked.

"I'm fine. Where are we?"

"Yeah, I wanna know too," Michael said. "At least it isn't cold anymore."

And finally, Sarah Michelle Gellar came out of the screen as well, landing on the mattress instead of the hard wood that everyone else made contact with.

"God. What happened?" she muttered. She looked up at the curious faces above her and smirked. "What're you guys looking at?"

She got up and brushed herself off, then noticed Jakob.

"Who's this kid?" she asked the others.

"I'm Jakob. Uh, in case you haven't noticed, you just flew out of my TV, and the explanation is downstairs. If you'll follow me," Jakob explained.

They did so, and a similar event occurred, a freakout (from Jakob's mom), introductions, and of course another THUMP from upstairs.

Jakob once again ascended the stairs and walked to his room. He saw a man lying on the floor, unconscious.

The man gasped and grabbed his head as if he had a headache. He sat up and Jakob instantly knew this was Samuel Stuhlinger.

"Wha-?" the groggy Samuel asked. He reached for his pistol and pointed it at Jakob. "Who're you?!"

"I'm-"

The TV swirled again, and a girl flew out, landing right on Samuel. Judging by the former company in his room, Jakob knew this was Misty.

Samuel arched up in pain.

"Agh! Get off of me, you slut!"

"What did you just call me, Stupinger?!" Misty said, stomping on his leg.

"Calm down!" Jakob said, knowing his mother could hear every word.

Misty looked up.

"Huh? Another survivor!" she grabbed Jakob by the shoulders. "Are there others?!"

"Uh-"

"Are. There. Others?!"

"The world isn't taken over by zombies, Misty," Jakob said.

"Huh? Was there a cure?"

"No. It never happened-"

The TV sparked again, and everyone's favorite nerd came flying out.

Marlton landed on the bed, mumbling something about never jumping into a crowd of zombies again.

Misty turned away from Jakob and helped the scientist up.

"Marly!" she said, hugging him.

Marlton blushed. After Misty's embrace was over, he pushed up his glasses and faced Jakob, not bothering to ask who he was.

"Do you know where we are?"

"USA," Jakob said.

"Interesting. That German must've transported us from Angola back to the states," Marlton said. He looked around. "Why aren't there any zombies?"

"Yeah, that's what I have to tell you about-" Jakob began.

Finally, Russman popped out of the TV, landing face first on the bed. He got up and winced, cracking his back.

He noticed the trio, along with Jakob, but shook his head, not even bothering to ask.

"There's somebody you might know downstairs who knows what's going on," Jakob said.

He led them downstairs, and as soon as Samuel saw Richtofen and heard his voice, he flipped out.

"YOU!" he said, grabbing him by the collar.

"Huh?" Richtofen said, genuinely not knowing what was going on.

"You messed up my entire life!" Samuel said, giving Richtofen a right hook.

"Wait, YOU'RE the one sending those zombies at us?" Misty asked in an infuriated voice, drawing her M1911.

"EVERYBODY STOP!"

Everyone turned to Jakob, stood on the coffee table.

"I can explain, and Richtofen can too if you don't murder him."

Samuel let go of the German, still glaring at him while Misty holstered her M1911.

Jakob took a deep breath and began to speak to the crowded room, with his parents incredibly confused and seated at the kitchen table out of fear. "Samuel, the Richtofen you're thinking about isn't here. This one is innocent in your case. Yes, he's a scumbag. Yes, he's psychotic. But he may be our only hope to get to the bottom of this."

"What did I do to him?!" Richtofen asked, rubbing his bruised jaw.

"Remember what I told you in the theater, Doc? The four people that just popped out of my flat screen are the ones who would decide your fate, assuming your grand scheme worked. Samuel was your pawn, and you've been the voice in his head for a while, just like the voices in your head, except worse."

Richtofen turned to Samuel. "I am sorry. I still don't know what he's talking about, but I apologize for myself."

Samuel narrowed his eyes. "Apology not accepted."

"Anyway, if you all must know, I met Dempsey, Takeo, and Nikolai as well in the theater they teleported to a while back," Jakob said. Nikolai, Dempsey, and Takeo had each raised their hand slightly when their name was said.

"We fought for a while, when I met the person that was controlling the zombies. Samantha Maxis, an innocent little girl who Richtofen teleported to the moon, intending to kill her. Unfortunately, her dad was involved and teleported elsewhere. She ran into the device that she's been using to control the zombies, and Richtofen wanted her out. They found Doctor Maxis, her father, and told him to get her out. He did, but told her to kill them all, so he got shot. Samantha, fueled by rage, controlled the zombies. Richtofen tried to overthrow her, using Dempsey, Takeo, and Nikolai, but she outsmarted him. So here we are now, cleaning up the magnificent Nazi Doctor Edward Richtofen's mess," Jakob said, being sure to add _Nazi_ with emphasis.

Everyone went into a short uproar at Richtofen, who had several thoughts of shooting himself.

"Anyway, she summoned me where she told me to join her. I refused, and she took my blood."

"How does this have anything to do with us being transported in the 'real world'?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, you never mentioned this!" Castro protested.

"This is how: I was able to escape the theater and reluctantly go back into the real world only because my blood mixed with the teleporter, taking the DNA and transporting me back to real life," Jakob said. "That correct, Doc?"

"Good enough," Richtofen muttered, earning a smirk from a few people.

"She must have used my blood to do this, because the timeline is all messed up now. I don't know how, or why you ended up here, but it might have something to do with the fact that she wants me on her side, which ain't happening any time soon."

One last THUMP was heard from upstairs, and Jakob made sure everyone was quiet.

"Agh, frick! What the heck?" a voice said.

Jakob tilted his head in thought. He knew that voice.

"What do you mean what the heck, Weasel? This is your freaking fault!"

"No it's not!"

"Shut up, both of you!" an older sounding voice said.

"Where the frick are we?!" another voice said.

"Who're they?" Dempsey whispered.

At the mention of Weasel, now Jakob was sure. "Mobsters."

Jakob crept upstairs to find Billy Handsome trying to choke Weasel while being restrained by Finn O'Leary and Salvatore DeLuca.

Sal looked to his right, seeing the kid.

"Hey! Freeze!" he said, pulling out his M1911.

Everyone else did the same, and Jakob found himself facing four barrels.

"Who're you?" Billy asked.

Jakob put his hands up. "I'm a kid, dude. What would I do to make you shoot me?"

Billy thought over this for a second, then cocked his pistol. "Is being a smart mouth an option?"

"Uh, I mean, I can help you out," Jakob said, slightly nervous.

"Lower the guns, boys. We'll kill him after he tells us what's going on," Sal commanded.

"This is gonna sound unbelievable, but you just popped out of my TV, and you're not in San Francisco anymore," Jakob started.

"We've seen lots of crazy stuff, kid. We can believe that," Finn said, leaning against the wall. "Go on."

"Second, you're not real. You're fictional characters created by a company called Treyarch. They make video games, full color digital games on TV screens, where you use gats and grenades, basically what you've been doing," Jakob said. "You can kill zombies, which is exactly what you've been fighting."

All four burst out in laughter. Billy wiped a tear from laughing so hard, the raised his pistol again.

"Thanks for the useless info," he said. "But we don't got time to listen to little kids."

"Hey!" Jakob said, throwing up his hands. "I'm 14! I'm the only one who can help you!"

Billy lowered his pistol and scratched his head. "Oh. Uh…" He looked to Sal.

Sal, however, was studying the boy.

"He's telling the truth, fellas," he piped up. "Nobody can slip a lie past me, and a kid sure couldn't. He's telling the truth."

Billy turned around and stared at Sal. "You mean we're supposed to believe this kid?"

"Yes. And if we find out he is lying, we'll kill him."

"Okay," Jakob said. "You'll have to come downstairs to meet some people."

Billy raised his pistol again, clearly looking for an excuse to kill somebody since Weasel was off-limits.

"They'll be cops! Let's just kill him now!"

Jakob sighed. "Will you just calm down and trust me?!"

They complied under Sal's orders. They each followed Jakob down the stairs, and his mother wasn't too happy that a conman, gambler, mob boss, and hitman were in her house. She threw up her arms and went outside. Jakob's father, however, stuck around.

As soon as Billy met Richtofen, a friendship was made.

"Nazi doctor, enjoys killing, no conscience?" Billy evaluated.

Richtofen nodded proudly (at killing, not being a Nazi or not having a conscience).

Billy slipped an arm around the Doctor. "I think we'll get along famously, Doc."

"Ja. Er, vat exactly makes you hell-vorthy?"

"I've killed 116 people," Billy answered flatly.

Richtofen's eyes widened. "Ooooh!"

Dempsey scratched his head and plopped back down on the blue recliner.

"I'm bored. Who wants to watch TV?" he asked the crowded room.

"Uh, sure," Peter said.

"Wait, in _color_?" Sal asked.

"Only if it's a movie I'm in!" Sarah exclaimed.

Several people had to sit on the floor as Dempsey grabbed the remote, fumbling with it and eventually found the "Power" button. The TV was already on the news, where everyone gasped at what was on the screen.


	4. Starting a War

_3 hours ago…._

 _Location: Washington, D.C._

 _Year: 2015_

 _1200 Hours_

"Test number 15 is a go. Begin mixing elements," Doctor Phillip Madison said into his recorder, craned over a metal table in his HAZMAT suit.

The scientist adjacent to him nodded and began mixing the elements, prepared to recreate the Ununpentium they had a few hours ago.

The moment the elements combined, a beautiful radioactive substance sat before them.

"Jones, quickly! Get the stabilizer! We have to see if we can make something out of this," Doctor Madison commanded to the other scientist.

Jones nodded and fetched the stabilizing element, using it on the Ununpentium and making it a stable, solid substance.

"Look at it, Jones. If we make something out of this, we'll be famous," Doctor Madison said in wonder.

"Yeah. If we make something," Jones said realistically.

The Ununpentium on the table began to shake.

"What in the-? Did you stabilize correctly?" Doctor Madison asked.

"Yes. Why's it shaking like that?"

They heard a giggle, that of a little girl's. They turned to see a little girl clutching a teddy bear.

"How'd a child get in here?!" Doctor Madison exclaimed.

The girl giggled again, waving. "Bye, bye!" Then she disappeared with a flash of blue light, almost electrical.

Jones glanced back at the Ununpentium, which had stopped shaking. All of a sudden, it jumped at him, eating through the suit like acid and getting into his mouth as he screamed.

"Jesus! Jones? Are you okay?!" Doctor Madison exclaimed.

Jones brought his hands from his face, revealing that his eyes had turned a solid glowing yellow. His flesh looked like it was rotting. Madison figured this was a side effect.

"Hold still, I'll get the eye-wash!" Madison ordered, reaching for the bottle stationed on the wall.

He returned to the now standing but stumbling Jones, who groaned.

Madison tilted Jones's head back, about to poor the eye-wash into his eyes and hopefully get rid of the burning.

Instead of letting the wash rinse his face, Jones suddenly grabbed Madison's hand, throwing him on the ground with amazing strength.

"Jones? What are you doing?"

Jones let out an inhuman roar and pounced on Madison, brutally murdering him.

The security guard of the sector saw this on camera, spitting out his drink and pushing the security button frantically.

By the time the security team had gotten to the lab, Madison was just a mangled hunk of meat and bone. Jones rose up and charged at the team, the newly-resurrected Madison close behind.

The hallways echoed with screams and gunfire.

"This is Karen Shoals with Channel 7 News, and we have reports of murder within the Element Testing Labs in Washington D.C.," the brunette reporter said into the small microphone.

As she spoke, the television showed security footage of glowing yellow-eyed assailants murdering several security teams.

"Nobody knows who or what caused this, but Channel 7 News will have an update within the hour."

"Holy crap….." Dempsey said in disbelief.

Richtofen stood up and cursed. "Verdammt! This is Samantha's doing! I know it!"

"Wait, if she's here, that explains why you guys are here," Jakob said.

By this time, Jakob's mother had returned, and saw this on the TV.

"What is going on?! What are those?!" she exclaimed.

"Zombies. They're zombies," Jakob said, almost not believing his own words.

"Those freaks followed us?!" Misty exclaimed.

The television flashed back to the reporter, who now looked shaky and bewildered.

"Th-this is Ka-Karen Sh-Shoals…" she began, tripping over her own words.

The second cameraman stepped into view and tried to calm her down, telling her to breathe. She nodded as the cameraman returned to his position.

"Th-this is Karen Shoals, and we have another de-development. Our information so far is that two scientists, Doctor Phillip Madison and Doctor Miguel Jones were creating the highly unstable, radioactive element known as Ununpentium, kn-known to others as Element 115. It s-seems, according to security footage, that the two w-were experimenting, when a little girl appeared in their laboratory. The cameras p-picked this up briefly, before the solidified element on the testing table jumped at Doctor Jones, eating through his protective suit and t-turning him into one of those th-things, shortly before attacking Doctor M-Madison," she finally managed to spit out.

"Nein. It's Divinium, not Ununpentium, stupid girl," Richtofen scoffed to the television.

"That's the game, Doc. It's called Ununpentium in the real world," Jakob said.

"Hmph," Richtofen muttered.

"S-several of the security teams have been w-wiped out," Karen said. "We do not know anything else at the moment."

Dempsey muted the television, staring at the screen. Several people threw a glance his way as he rested his head on his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Dang it!" he yelled suddenly, slamming his fist into the arm rest and getting up.

"Christ, Dempshey! Calm down!" Richtofen said, almost slightly caring.

Dempsey faced away from the others towards the fireplace. He had his arms crossed, thinking. Then he turned around, fire in his eyes.

"We have to stop her. She ruined the world I lived in, the one you lived in, and she's NOT messing up this one," he announced to the other characters.

"Are you crazy, Dempshey?! She'll have an _army_ of _thousands_ vithin a _day_!" Richtofen exclaimed.

"We did it before, sauerkraut. Heck, we went to the freaking Moon," Dempsey scoffed to Richtofen, receiving surprised looks form everyone except Nikolai, Takeo, and Jakob. "We can do it again. And we will."

"We don't even know vhere she is, American!" Richtofen countered.

"Da, I agree with the German on this one," Nikolai said, taking a swig of vodka. "Plus, Nikolai is too lazy."

Dempsey cast a pleading look at the honor-bound samurai, who was studying him, thinking. "I am with the American."

"Vat?!" Richtofen asked, since Nikolai didn't seem to care.

Takeo walked over to Dempsey and stood by him, staring at the doctor. "He has shown honor. You have not. You tricked us into doing these terrible things. Dempsey fought alongside us while you lead the chaos. If you won't help him, Edward, I will."

Dempsey felt like hugging the samurai, who usually showed no care towards him, but he knew that would ruin it.

"Thanks, Takeo," Dempsey said gratefully.

The Doctor shook his head.

Sarah stood up, followed by Danny, Robert, and Michael. "I don't know exactly what happened, but no one is messing up my world," she said.

Danny and the other two nodded.

Then Kennedy stood up. He walked over to Dempsey, standing beside him. He put a hand on his shoulder, and stared at the people watching him. "In all of my years in the Navy, I've never seen such a Marine. _Ever_. I'm with him." Then he turned to Richtofen and pointed a finger in his direction. "If you won't help him, Nazi, I will."

McNamara joined Kennedy, followed by Nixon, then Castro.

Then Samuel stood beside the group. "Anything to be against Richtofen."

Misty got up, too, shoving Samuel and taking her place beside him.

Seeing that their companions had gotten up, Russman and Marlton got up as well.

"If I can't prevent a lockdown in the asylum, I need to at least prevent an apocalypse in reality," somebody said.

Everyone looked over at Peter, who was leaning against the wall. He pushed off of it and joined the group, throwing a glare at Richtofen.

Then Sal stepped in, smirking. "I don't know what this is about, but if it means that in the end I can get the speakeasies runnin' again, I'm all for it."

"Sal's the boss," Billy said, shrugging and looking at Finn and Weasel.

Weasel hesitated, but stepped in line. Finn studied the group, as if he we looking for a way to win at blackjack. Then he nodded and grinned at his boss. "You'll need the luck of the Irish anyway."

"Oh, for Stalin's sake…." Nikolai muttered, getting up as well.

All that was left was Richtofen. Everyone stared at him.

"Nein," he said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Everyone continued to stare at him.

"Nein!" he repeated.

It was Dempsey's death glare that got him.

"Fein!" Richtofen said, throwing his hands up. "Ihr Narren wissen nicht, was du tust!"

Everyone now looked at the screen, where they saw another horrifying thing.

"This is K-Karen Shoals. W-we're back at the scene. The whole facility is on lockdown and-"

She let out a bloodcurdling screen as she was tackled by a zombie, as the two cameramen were attacked as well. The screen went static as the view switched to the main studio, where the two newscasters (a man and a woman) were staring at the camera, mouth agape.

"We've…. lost Karen," the man said slowly. "This is Jerry Pitts…. Channel 7 News. We'll be back after these messages…"

The screen didn't change, however. It just showed the bewildered newscasters whispering to each other, but then the woman's ears perked up. She put her hand to her earpiece.

"Uh…..we are currently being told of an assault on the White House…"

This was insane.

Tyler Moors wasn't prepared for this. When he enlisted, he expected Afghanistan because of Taliban, or Isis because of terrorists.

Not the White House because of zombies.

He put his hand to his earpiece.

"Okay, ONE more time. We're fighting zombies?" he asked command over the roar of the helicopter.

"For the LAST time, that's what we were told, Sergeant. Now be a good marine and just see through the mission. Godspeed," the voice came back.

Moors rolled his eyes and slid down the rope, landing on the roof of the White House. As soon as his feet touched the roof, he noticed a second helicopter, a news chopper. For a second, he thought of flicking off the chopper. He hated news reporters. They always revealed secret stuff that the public "had" to know, which only screwed everything up.

The television said LIVE in the bottom corner, showing a clear but shaky view of Marines piling up against a door on the roof. One Marine in particular seemed to be glaring at the camera.

"Who're they?" Dempsey asked Jakob.

"They're modern Marines. The Raiders."

They busted open the locked door and made their way into a hallway. They scanned the area with their assault rifles, mot seeing anything until a big, burly man rounded the corner and froze in his tracks at the sight of the Marines.

"Freeze! Stay where you are, sir!" Moors commanded. "Hands in the air!"

The man raised slowly his hands in the air, and that's when Moors noticed the man's eyes looked abnormal. They were larger, and bright, glowing yellow.

"Sir? Are you injured-"

The man let out an inhuman scream, then charged at Moors. He raised his rifle and put 3 bursts in the man's head. It barely left a mark.

The man charged past the barrage and knocked Moors out the window.

On the screen, several Marines could be seen through the window, pointing their assault rifles at a large man, before one of them came flying through the glass.

"Holy crap!" Dempsey yelled.

Moors was able to grab onto the window sill and slowly heave himself back up. When he reentered, however, he saw all of his men slaughtered, with the giant man breathing heavily and looking down at the fresh corpses littered on the carpet.

Moors stared at the bodies, and became filled with rage that nothing could extinguish, unless it was the death of this man. He screamed in rage, causing the large man to turn around

He charged at the man, pushing him toward the window and punching him several times, surprisingly injuring the man more than the M16s' bursts. He finally drew a grenade from his uniform and jammed it down the man's throat, kicking him out the window.

The Marine had caught onto the sill and heaved himself back up into the window. A few seconds passed, and everyone could just barely make out an anguished scream, right before the Marine pinned a man to the window, sticking something in the man's mouth and kicking him out the window. The man fell to the ground and, to everyone's shock, exploded shortly after.

"Oh my God!" Jakob's mother screamed.

Billy and Richtofen, however, almost cheered.

All of a sudden, the camera blurred, refocusing on a figure on the rooftop, brandishing an RPG. At a closer look, it appeared to be a zombie. It aimed carefully at the chopper before pulling the trigger.

"What the fu-" somebody began to say in the chopper.

Boom.

The screen seemed to be engulfed in flames as the world spun, making contact with the ground as a dying groan was heard. The camera was now cracked, and the only thing that was still visible was the debris-littered lawn of the White House.

"Jesus!" Sal yelled.

Moors stared down in dark satisfaction at the mutilated body of the large man, before looking up in horror as a rocket struck the news chopper. It crashed to the ground, taking out part of the lawn.

He quickly looked towards the direction it was fired, and executed the zombie with a quick burst to the head.

After mourning the loss of his teammates, he continued looking around until he spied President Obama, as well as his security team, rounding the corner.

"Hey!" he said, chasing after them.

One of the bodyguards immediately drew a pistol and pointed at Moors' head.

"Who're you?"

Moors was surprised, but answered calmly, "I'm Tyler Moors. I'm part of the Marine Raiders team that was supposed to be back-up." Then he looked at the President. "I think it'd be best if we got out of here, sir."

"No need. We're going to the bunker," Obama responded. He looked Moors up and down. "You're not bitten, are you?"

"No sir. These wounds were caused by being thrown out a window, sir," Moors replied.

"How did… nevermind. You should come with us," Obama said.

Moors' eyes widened, and he nodded gratefully.

Anything to get out of here.


	5. The Forgotten Soldiers

**Happy Veteran's Day! I was thinking about writing something special involving Dempsey, but I really couldn't think of anything. Enjoy!**

 _Location: Wittenau Sanatorium_

 _Year: 1945_

"Crap, crap, crap, crap, CRAP!" Smokey yelled, running from the horde of sprinting undead Nazis.

He was eventually cornered by the Juggernog machine after running from the power room. Where were the others?

As he fired his MP40, he called out, "Dempsey!"

No answer. He was eventually consumed by the crowd, screaming until his last breath.

On the other side of the asylum, Dempsey and John "Banana" were facing their own problems, two clips left each with God-knows how many Nazis trying to kill them.

As Dempsey fired his BAR, he had heard a scream over the roar of zombies.

"What was that?!" Banana asked.

"I think it was Smokey!" Dempsey said, cursing under his breath.

As he threw a grenade, they ran around the asylum until they found Smokey's dead body. He hadn't turned yet.

Banana fell to his knees. Dempsey put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get revenge, John. It'll be alright."

Dempsey stood up and raised his pistol, shooting Smokey's dead body in the head to keep him from turning. Banana flinched as the gunshot rang out.

"It's gonna be alright," Dempsey repeated.

The words were barely out of his mouth before several zombies jumped on him from behind.

"No!" Banana yelled as Dempsey was pushed to the floor.

Dempsey killed every last Nazi on him and got up, but instantly stumbled and fell on the wall. He was badly injured, covered in cuts, scratches, and a fresh gash on the side of his head that nearly cut into his eye. But the worst injury was the large slash on his chest, roughly covering the width of his shoulders.

"Corporal!" Banana yelped in concern.

Dempsey gave him a weak smile. "Go on without me. I'll be dead soon… you need to complete the mission. Find Peter. Get out of here alive."

"I-I can't….." Banana choked.

Dempsey put a hand on his shoulder. It was comforting for a second, but soon grew cold. Then limp.

Banana hugged the dead body of Tank Dempsey, crying into his shoulder. He never felt so alone.

He got up, just in time to see another horde come his way. Tears and fire in his eyes, he charged up the stairs to the power room, making a final stand. He pulled off his grenade belt, setting it beside him as he inserted a fresh magazine into his STG-44. As the zombies came from all sides, they began tearing him apart.

But not before he put a bullet in the grenade, sending him flying into the generator.

 _BZZZZZZT!_

 _Reality_

 _Location: Central America_

 _Year: 2015_

 _THUMP._

Jakob had heard that sound coming from his room so many times that he was ready to jump out a window. Not to mention his bed was most likely totaled from the multiple people slamming into it.

Everyone gave him a confused face. He shrugged in response. He headed back upstairs one last time.

"Holy crap! How are you alive?" he heard a man say.

"How are you alive? I was sure you'd be dead after me!" another man said.

As he entered his room, before him stood two men he'd never seen before.

One of them noticed him. "Who're you?"

"I'd like to as the same question," Jakob countered, genuinely not knowing who these people were.

"I'm John, but they call me Banana," the man said. "This is my friend Smokey."

Jakob's eyes widened. "Wait, where were you a few minutes ago?"

Banana scratched his head. "We were in Germany."

"Where exactly?"

"Sorry, I signed a secrecy form. I can't tell a civilian," he said.

Jakob thought for a few seconds. "Do you know what year it is?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. 1945," Smokey spoke up with a raised eyebrow, as if the answer was obvious.

"I'm afraid you're incorrect," Jakob said, clasping his hands together. "You're in the year 2015."

Banana, instead of being surprised, put his hands up. "Okay, whoa. Did we get hit on the head and go into a coma and wake up several years later or something like that?"

"No," Jakob said. "Would you believe me if I told you that you didn't exist?"

"Pfft. No," Smokey scoffed.

"Well, sorry, but it's the truth. You're from a video game, friend," Jakob said.

Banana broke out in a fit of laughter.

"One question, were you the only survivors?"

The question immediately shook Banana from his laughter.

"I was. Smokey died before….. Dempsey did," Banana said, collapsing onto the bed, his head in his hands.

Jakob's ears perked up. "Dempsey's here."

"Bullcrap. I saw him die with my own eyes, kid," Banana said, having half the mind to shoot Jakob.

"Dempsey! You have some friends up here," Jakob called over his shoulder.

Dempsey came up the stairs, freezing at the sight of the two soldiers. The soldiers he'd lost so long ago. They froze as well.

"D-Dempsey?"

Dempsey rushed past Jakob and brought the two soldiers into a bear hug. And, to Jakob's surprise, Dempsey began tearing up. Nobody knew what to say.

"I haven't seen you in so long since you died in the Asylum!" Dempsey finally managed to choke out.

Banana backed up a little. "What do you mean when _we_ died? Smokey died, then you."

Dempsey scratched his head. "I was captured by the enemy."

"Like I said, a video game. Dempsey here came from the Moon. The one you saw die must've been his past self," Jakob explained.

Dempsey nodded. "It's true." He thought for a moment, then remembered the fourth soldier, the one he'd been the hardest on.

"What about-?"

"He died first, sir," Banana interrupted solemnly.

Everyone except Jakob bowed their head, remembering their fallen soldier.

After the episode was over, Jakob finally ushered everyone downstairs, casting a ticked off glance at his now destroyed TV.

At the sight of Richtofen, Banana and Smokey raised their M1911's, fingers on the trigger. Dempsey stopped them, slapping them both and lowering their guns.

"He's cool," Dempsey said. "He's with me."

Richtofen looked at Dempsey in surprise, expecting a "Kraut's with me, even though he's a sadist", or "As much as I want a bullet in his head, don't kill him….. yet".

After Jakob cleared up the story of Richtofen's problem that put everyone there, explained Samantha, and restrained all attempts of murdering a Nazi, the news came back on.

Everyone's eyes went wide. The camera was still on the lawn before, but was slowly picked up by an un-seeable force. It walked around, going inside and viewing several dead bodies. The person didn't say a word, but giggled slightly whenever the most gruesome death was seen. The giggle became more and more distinct, until the person finally spun the camera around to face them.

"Greetings, puppets," Samantha Maxis said, hate in her eyes. She tossed her head, flipping her hair out of her eyes a bit.

"Some of you may know me," she continued, tilting her head slightly in thought, "but most of you do not. My name is Samantha Maxis, and I'm raising an army. Join if you wish, but if you're not with me, you're against me, puppets."

The camera twisted back around, showing a vault door. Above the doorway, a sign read: PRESIDENT'S BUNKER – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

"Holy crap….." Jakob whispered.

Several zombies holding assault rifles line up into view, one of them holding the Vice President's dead body, ready to press his thumb against the print scanner. It looked at the camera and smiled a yellow-toothed smile, one that said "Give me one reason….."

The camera spun back around, showing a clear view of Samantha's face. Behind her on the wall, a zombie was spray-painting "JOIN OR DIE" in red paint.

Samantha leant in close. "I'll find you, Edward. And when I do, I am going to make you suffer, more than DADDY!"

The camera was flung across the room, and the last thing the feed transmitted was a revolver-wielding, Wehrmacht helmet-wearing Nazi zombie. Its eyes shone a brighter yellow, and it smiled a razor sharp, white-toothed smile.

Then it pulled the trigger.

The TV cut back to the reporters, and their mouths were agape.

So was everyone watching it.


	6. We Gotta Stop Her

"… I'm afraid we have to end programming for today. Have a good night," Jerry said into the camera.

The screen went static as Dempsey turned off the TV.

"No," Dempsey said with disapproval, a plan forming on his face.

Everyone turned to him, curious about what that meant.

Richtofen rubbed his chin thoughtfully after recovering from Samantha's threat. He knew that zombie, the one with razor sharp teeth and the revolver. He knew him as a living person, he just couldn't think of his name. All he knew was that his face looked familiar.

Finally, Dempsey spoke up. "We're gonna stop her. That means we need weapons, and if we're gonna do this, we need to do it fast."

"When do we leave, Dempsey?" Jakob asked.

Then his mother stepped in.

"NO," she said firmly. "You're not going ANYWHERE with these people."

"I _know_ them! They won't hurt me. Billy, I'm not too sure, but everyone else, no," Jakob countered.

His mother sighed and looked out the window. It was getting dark. She gave her son a weary-eyed look before placing a hand on her forehead. "You're NOT going with them."

Then she turned to the crowd that could hear every word. "Sorry, but I want all of you out of here."

"But-" Jakob began.

"No. You're not risking your life. We're not going to lose you because this girl is declaring war on America," she concluded. "Go to your room."

"But-!"

"Now!"

Jakob's eyes narrowed as he went up the stairs, casting a sad look at the people in his house. "Bye, Dempsey."

"Bye kid. Don't worry, we'll take Sam down," Dempsey reassured.

Jakob sat on his bed, ticked off more than ever. He had just been handed the opportunity to help the world, and of course his mother smacked it away.

He sighed. He knew she meant well. But this just wasn't fair.

No. He was going with them, whether his parents liked it or not.

He grabbed a pen and began writing:

 _I'm sorry it had to come to this. I'm helping them. By the time you get this note, I'll be gone._

 _I love you,_

 _\- Jakob_

He smirked at the note and taped it to his bedframe. He glanced out the window, seeing the large group of people marching down the road, earning a strange stare from neighbors.

He headed downstairs.

"What do you think you're doing-" his mother began.

"I'm just getting my baseball bat to put in my room," Jakob explained in annoyance.

He went out on the porch, fetching the baseball bat and secretly getting the largest knife he could find from the kitchen, out of view from his parents.

He marched back up the stairs into his room, seeing the last of the group, Billy, marching down the street.

He knew his time was now, and he opened the window, climbing through the sill and taking would could've been his last look at his room.

Then he jumped down with a THUD and faint CRACK.

He pulled out the knife and shouldered the baseball bat, catching up to the group.

"Dempsey!" he called.

Dempsey, who was at the front of the group, turned around.

"Kid? Your mom change her mind?"

"No. I snuck out," Jakob responded.

Dempsey grew uneasy. "Look, it could be considered kidnapping if you come with us-"

"The world's ending, Dempsey. Kidnappers will be the least of the police's problems," Jakob pointed out.

He took out his phone. Dempsey noticed the small black object, and had to be explained to what it was.

Jakob chuckled after the explanation was over, and dialed the number he hadn't used very often.

"Hello?" a voice said.

"Hey, Gavin."

"Oh crap!" Gavin said. "Did you see the news? This is some Call of Duty stuff, man!"

"Yeah, I know. Dempsey's right next to me," Jakob said.

"I call bullcrap, Jakob! I can believe Samantha friggin' Maxis popping into reality, but the possibility of _him_ somehow getting to _you_?"

"You want to talk to him?" Jakob asked.

"Fine."

Jakob handed the phone to Dempsey, who after fiddling with it, put it to his ear.

"Who is this?" he replied in his gruff voice.

"Who is this?" Gavin countered.

"You can't recognize a Marine when you hear one? Christ," Dempsey muttered. Jakob took the phone from him.

"You believe me now?"

It was silent for a few seconds on the other line. "Maybe."

"Are you willing to save the world with us?" Jakob asked him (#Cheesy).

"Uh, yeah. What do I bring?" Gavin asked.

"Dog tags, phone, and any weapon," Jakob said.

"What about a family portrait?" Gavin asked.

Jakob grinned slightly. "Yeah. That too."

After the call ended, he dialed another number.

"Hello?" somebody answered.

"Donevin?" Jakob asked.

"Oh, hey Jakob. Did you see the news? D.C.'s being friggin' attacked by zombies!"

"Yeah, I know," Jakob said. "Dempsey's right next to me."

Instead of a scoff, Donevin believed him. "Lemme guess, you want me to help you save the world?"

"You got it," Jakob said, surprised at Donevin's accurate prediction.

"What do I bring?" he asked.

"Dog tags and weapons, bro. And your phone," Jakob said.

"Got it," Donevin said. Then he hung up.

"Okay, where to first?" Dempsey asked.

"Gavin's house," Jakob informed him.

Once they arrived, they found Gavin waiting outside. His jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of all the soldiers and people following Jakob. He threw a glare at Richtofen.

"Holy-"

"Calm down, Gavin. We gotta get going," Jakob interrupted. "We're getting Donevin, too."

Gavin nodded, pulling out a switchblade.

Of course, Donevin was waiting with a survival pack, shurikens, a hatchet, and lots of other sharp pointy things. He'd told Jakob about them, but he never believed him.

Jakob explained the situation to both of his friends, and they were off to find transportation.

"I know it'd be awkward for over twenty people at once to wait at a bus stop, together as a group," Jakob began to his team, "so we're gonna get a school bus. And I know just the bus driver for it.

Following Jakob's directions, they went to a small house with a school bus parked out front.

Jakob he rang the doorbell.

An elderly woman answered the door, instantly giving him a hug.

"Why, I haven't seen you in months!" his middle school bus driver said.

"Yeah. Look, we're going to have to need your bus. I assume you've seen the news?" Jakob said.

She nodded, handing him the keys. "I don't know what you plan on doing," she began, "but be careful with her."

Jakob nodded and ordered everyone on the bus. Nobody exactly complained about where they sat. Dempsey was driving, Richtofen was next to Jakob in the front, and beside them was Donevin and Gavin, with Donevin showing off his medical equipment to Richtofen.

"Everyone ready to save the world?" Dempsey asked everyone, using the speaker.

Everyone either nodded or shouted "YEAH!".

"Oorah," Dempsey said, nodding and smiling into the mirror at the passengers.


	7. I Am a DOCTOR, Schweinehund!

"Hey Dempsey!" Smokey called to the driver of the bus.

Dempsey brought the speaker to his lips. "Yeah?"

"Where're we going, anyway?" Smokey asked.

"Best gun store around, according to Jakob. We should be there in about ten minutes. Keep your panties on, Smokey," Dempsey replied, smirking into the mirror.

Smokey narrowed his eyes as everyone on the bus but him laughed.

After 15 minutes, contrary to Dempsey's claim, they made it.

Jakob stood up in the aisle, bringing the speaker to his face.

"The poor guy who works here is going to be _pretty freaking confused_ if twenty-six people go into that store at once, so me, Tank, Richtofen, Takeo, and Nikolai are going to go in, _calmly_ ," he announced, glancing at Richtofen. "So don't go crazy-Nazi on the guy, Edward."

Richtofen flinched at the sound of his first name, and hastily got up out of the bus.

"Everyone else, stay here," Jakob said. He looked to Peter. "You're in charge, McCain."

Peter nodded, and as soon as the five stepped off of the bus, he turned to the large group of people.

"Do whatever you want. Just don't kill each other. I'm taking a freaking nap," he said.

As soon as the Nazi, Marine, Imperial, Soviet, and teenager walked in the door, the man at the counter got a little nervous.

He gulped. "Can I help you?"

Richtofen rushed to the counter, startling the man slightly. "Ja! Do you have zhe MP40?"

"Uh, sorry sir. We do not."

"Oh," Richtofen said in disappointment. "Vat about an FG42?"

"Uh, no."

"Aw. A Gewehr 43? Kar98k?"

"Still no."

"Schießen. MG34? MG42? STG-44?" he pressed.

"Still no, sir," the man said. "I'm sorry, Mister, but we don't have any World War II weaponry here."

Then the Nazi flipped his crap.

"Mister?! MISTER?! I am a DOCTOR, Schweinehund! I WILL RIP YOU TO PIECES AND BATHE IN YOUR BLOOD!" Richtofen exclaimed.

He felt a cold metal object on the back of his head as he stared down the cowering employee.

"Richtofen. If you don't calm down, I'm putting a bullet in your head, GOT IT?" Dempsey's voice said.

"Ja, ja. Vatever….." Richtofen pouted, looking at the .44 Magnums in the display cases.

Dempsey holstered his M1911.

Nikolai stepped up to the counter drunkenly, stumbling a bit. "Do you have any vodka, my good man?"

"The mini-fridge over there has some," the now slightly calmer employee said, pointing to the specially-designed soda machine-style mini-fridge in the corner. "One dollar a bottle."

"Nikolai is happy!" Nikolai said with glee as Jakob handed him a dollar.

As soon as Nikolai returned, he asked the man another question.

"Do you sell the PPSh-41?"

"Again, no WWII weapons," the man said.

"Ah. What about the FN Falafel?" Nikolai asked again.

"Huh? Oh, you mean the FN FAL?"

"Yeah, whatever," Nikolai muttered.

"Yeah, we ran out of those yesterday. Sorry!" the man said. "But if it's Russian weapons you want, I think I have just the thing."

The man went to the back, returning with an AK-47.

Nikolai gasped. "Could it be? The Kalashnikov? This was only being _spoken_ of in 1945!"

"Excuse me?" the clerk asked.

Jakob leant over the counter. "Are you the only one here?"

"Uh, no. As a matter of fact, my assistant is in the back getting some sleep. He's sick," the man said. "He's in charge of the bow and arrow section."

Jakob's eyes widened in alarm. "What happened?"

"Some crazy yellow-eyed dude bit him, then fell over."

They heard a groaning coming from the back, and an employee emerged. The guy was a zombie now, but the clerk did not seem to notice. The guy's nametag read "Mark N."

"Hey Markus. Feeling better?" the clerk said.

"Mark" lunged at him, tearing him apart, right as Nikolai stole a magazine from the shelf, put it into his AK-47, and obliterated the zombie's skull.

"Pieces go flying everywhere! Hahaha!" he stated, happy to be back to killing zombies.

"Why is there a bow and arrow section anyway?" Dempsey asked.

"Don't know. Probably the same reason there's a crossbow section, too," Jakob theorized, pointing to the wall lined with crossbows.

"Hey, this means that Nikolai does not have to pay for vodka in fridge!" Nikolai said suddenly, dashing to the mini-fridge, putting every bottle he could into his bag.

"Stupid rejoices aside," Dempsey began, "we also don't have to pay for these guns!"

"OOOOH! I'll go get Billy!" Richtofen squealed.

"Get everyone else, too, dumb kraut," Dempsey snapped.

Richtofen gave him the finger, then went to get everyone else.

Jakob went over to examine the bodies, seeing a picture of a peanut on the back of Mark's shirt. He pushed him aside and observed the dead clerk. He reached in his pockets, finding three whole packs of gum.

"Aw, sweet!" he said. He loved gum. And he was pretty sure his teammates would too.

"I heard something about free gats!" Billy roared, busting through the store's double doors.

"Ja! Zhe clerk is dead! Ve don't even have to pay! Vunderbar!" Richtofen squealed.

Everyone flooded in, each admiring a weapon and their caliber.

Jakob caught Nikolai eyeing an RPK-74 on the wall, as well as a Makarov PMM in the counter's display case.

"Just grab it, Nikolai. You don't have to pay," Jakob encouraged.

"Nikolai knows this," Nikolai said. "But morals seem to be coming back. I want to pay that man for some reason, even though he is dead." He paused for a while. "I know what will fix this! Drink!"

He took a mighty swig, busting open the display case with the butt of his AK, then grabbing the Makarov and filling his bag and pockets with magazines. Then he grabbed the RPK, also getting several magazines.

"Hey kid," Dempsey whispered.

"Mmm."

"Why haven't we seen a perk machine yet?"

"This is the real world. I think if Samantha wanted to play a game, she would've sent a perk by now," Jakob inputted. "But now, we need something else, and it's called body armor."

He pointed to the back room where body armor was displayed.

Dempsey slowly developed a grin.

As soon as everybody got one of _those_ , this was going to get fun.


	8. Gentlemen, Lock and Load

**Please tell me somebody got the joke about Mark during last chapter? PLEASE?! If you didn't, I can understand, but there's a MEME around it! *crosses fingers***

 **Oh… and uh….. here's the next chapter.**

Dempsey weighed the M16A2 in his hands in satisfaction. He'd already made another bandolier, consisting of clips for the assault rifle. He'd kept his M1911, just like everyone else, but he'd also gotten a Smith & Wesson Model 29 Classic .44 Magnum. He'd also greedily grabbed a box of .44 ammo.

He also spotted a RPD on the wall, quickly grabbing it.

And of course, he stuck with his knife.

He looked down at the bulky exterior of his uniform, now that he wore body armor under it. It was slightly padded, but of course, it wasn't anything that would interfere with showing off his _muscles_. The now-protected torso just made him look more buff. Everyone else had the same armor.

Nikolai, they group soon found out, was more muscular than the group gave him credit for. Even though he looked fat, his build was only a little less than Dempsey's.

The Cossack was now armed with a Makarov, RPK, and AK-47, with two bandoliers across his surprisingly muscular chest (no homo, guys).

And of course, he managed to fashion two holsters on his sides, but these were for – you guessed it – vodka.

Thanks to the store's apparently mentally unstable clerk (evident by some plans to assassinate somebody) and illegal nature, he found an axe, hidden away with several sawed-offs, rocket launchers and mini-nukes in the back room.

"Aha! He lied!" Richtofen called out, referring to the dead clerk. He had spotted a Mauser C96 encased in the display counter. He, wasting no time, smashed it, retrieving the sidearm. Luckily, the clerk had some ammo behind the counter for it.

Now the crazy doctor was armed with a Mauser, and a Heckler & Koch MP5. He cackled maniacally, as if that weren't obvious. To top off with the madness, he also found a KM2000 combat knife. He'd also brought a scalpel.

Takeo was armed with a Heckler & Koch USP pistol, a weapon that only Japanese Special Forces used. The samurai also had gotten an M24 Sniper Rifle, as well as an M4 Carbine, also used by JSF.

He sat in a corner, unsheathing his katana and polishing it.

JFK had dug around until he found the 13 inch barrel variant of the Ithaca 37 shotgun, or as he knew it back in the Pentagon, the Stakeout. He'd also gotten his hands on a SIG Sauer P226 MK25 pistol, used by U.S. Navy SEALs.

"This is what the SEALs used, eh?" he thought aloud. "If I'd been one, I woulda treasured this."

McNamara was pleased with his selection: a Kimber Custom handgun, along with an M14. He cocked both weapons, checking for flaws and eventually taking his place beside Kennedy.

Castro had stuck to the close-quarters weaponry, which was a Colt Python (more .357 ammo) and a PM63. He'd also found a Bowie Knife, though a completely different-looking one compared to the knife he'd used in the Pentagon.

After searching around, Nixon finally found what he'd been looking for: a shotgun. It was a Franchi SPAS-12, and he'd chosen a Ruger MK II as a sidearm. He'd also found a Gerber MK II knife, too, which he'd insisted "no hippie would ever use".

Robert had gone with the explosive stuff. He'd found a crossbow with an explosive tip, as well as a Glock 19. He got a survival knife as well, which seemed to be noticeably bigger (HA!) than this old knife.

Sarah went with an MP5 as well, as well as a Heckler & Koch HK45. She didn't bother with a melee. She had her fists.

Danny found two machetes, complementing the weapons he had right after George went missing. He'd found an M249 light machine gun as well, and grabbed a Glock 17.

Michael was able to find two sawed-off double barrel shotguns, as well as a .357 Magnum. Out of pure luck, he was also able to find a sword.

Marlton was lucky with the sniper rifle selection for sure, considering the fact he'd found a beloved DSR-50. He also scavenged around until he found a XVR (X-treme Velocity Revolver) 460 Magnum, complete with a scope and bi-pod, perfect for long-range encounters. He wasted no time selecting the Bowie Knife on display.

Misty had stuck with her favorite weapon: the Remington Model 870 MCS 12 gauge (obviously). On top of that, she'd selected a Marlin BFR (Big Frame Revolver).

"Now that's a big freaking revolver!" she yelped.

Being the tough farm girl she was, she chose some brass knuckles.

Samuel went with a Remington Model New Army, as well as an M1216. Being the nut he was, he didn't trust any of the melee weapons on display, and stuck to his knife.

Russman was in the "BOOM" mood, and went with the Milkor M32 MGL grenade launcher.

"Ah, the War Machine," he said to himself. One of the reasons he liked it was because the weight and shape wasn't too hard on the joints.

As a sidearm he went with an FN Five-seven, along with a simple survival knife.

Billy missed the Blundergat he had at Alcatraz, so when he saw the four barrel combination gun (a four barrel shotgun), he fell in love. That's all he wanted. No pistol (other than his M1911). The only other weapon he got was some brass knuckles.

Sal immediately went for the drum barrel Tommy Gun. The clerk had been lying! Well, about the German weapons, at least. He then grabbed a Mossberg 500, being sure to grab a Bowie Knife.

Finn managed to find a snub nosed Python, also getting his hands on a sawed-off shotgun. For some reason, he preferred to use his makeshift knife from Alcatraz.

Weasel, too, had found a snub nosed Python, but went with a Galil ACE, though was shocked that they didn't have the original Galil. Being the sneaky person he was, he went with a small, but razor sharp switchblade.

Because of the OSS training, Peter was familiar with many weapons, and he happened to favor sniper rifles. He'd picked out a with a Savage 10FP sniper rifle with .338 Lapua Magnum caliber. He'd kept his Colt, possibly because of nostalgia since he was surrounded with new and improved weapons. He'd selected a Ka-Bar knife.

Smokey was next, and he'd insisted on keeping his Colt, grabbing an M14 off the display wall. He kept his issued knife.

Banana also kept his Colt, but had grabbed a Thompson from the back room. He'd figured the clerk had been lying from the start, and clearly had stashed a few WWII weapons back there for himself. He also grabbed an SOG knife.

Then came Gavin. He'd sprang for an M9 pistol on sight. After feeling it in his hand for a few moments, he also took a Scar-H from the display wall. He insisted on a Ka-Bar knife.

Donevin was definitely happy to be surrounded by so many guns. He'd grabbed a golden Desert Eagle from the back room. As expected, a lot of people asked about it, but Donevin's response was, "That clerk is just a weird guy."

"Apparently that clerk was a weird person," Donevin said, shrugging. He searched around, finally finding a PDW-57 as well as a laser sight, which he quickly attached. And of course, he also got a Ka-Bar.

And last, but not least, came Jakob. As everyone else had been loading up, he had frozen at the sight of the world's most powerful pistol. There it was, in the display case as if it were any other pistol.

Jakob quickly reached for it before anybody else could. He examined the black pistol grip, along with the stainless steel body. The barrel was 10" long, a Lothar-Walther custom German rifle barrel.

In his hands, he held a Smith & Wesson Model 500 double-action Magnum revolver. It was, indeed, the world's most powerful pistol. It took all he could not to yell in glee as he grabbed the long holster next to it. Unfortunately, the weird clerk had not kept any ammo around, saddening the boy. He didn't give up though.

He searched the back room, and after pushing aside a heavy box of RPG-7 rockets, he found a box of .500 cartridges (.50 caliber bullets).

"Sneaky lunatic," Jakob muttered.

The only problem was that the clerk only had one slim box. And that slim box only carried five rounds, meaning Jakob could only fully use the Model 500 once.

He sighed. This was meant for some kind of last stand.

He walked out of the back, seeing everyone was done.

"We all set?" he asked, snatching a Bowie Knife off the wall.

Murmurs of "yes" and "whenever you are" sounded throughout the room.

"Let's go then," he said.

Everyone filed out of the store. As everyone loaded onto the bus, Jakob being the last, he stopped at the top of the steps, leaning on the driver's seat. He pulled out the packs of gum.

"Who wants gum?" he asked loudly.

Everyone wanted some, including Dempsey. All of the packs were used in less than six minutes.


	9. The Return

The bus shook as it hit a rocky road. It was still nighttime, and sunrise was almost upon the group.

Jakob was happy, even excited that he was going to be able to save the world with the heroes from his favorite video game. It was a dream come true! Well, he never actually dreamed that, but you get the point.

Dempsey, who had taken a break from driving (Peter was now), was sitting next to him, behind the driver's seat.

Jakob had begun to sigh, and look down a bit. He missed his parents, and knew he might not see them again.

"What's the matter, kid?"

Jakob looked up, seeing Dempsey looking down at him in concern.

"Nothing, Tank. It's just that….. I never told my parents goodbye in person."

Tank looked out the window, remembering how he'd sometimes never get to tell his family goodbye before going to war.

He looked back down at the teen in pity, and leaned over to whisper something in Peter's ear. Peter nodded as he turned the bus around.

Jakob noticed, and perked up. "Dempsey, what'd you just tell him?"

Dempsey smirked, patting the teen's shoulder. "Told him to turn back around, to your house."

Jakob smiled slightly at Dempsey, hugging him.

"Oh, before I forget, I noticed you didn't grab a weapon besides a pistol and knife back at the shop."

Jakob's grin faded and his eye's widened. "Crap….."

"Don't worry," Dempsey reassured, leaning back over the seat and retrieving something from between the driver's seat and its window. It was a Galil.

"Sweet!" Jakob said. "But how'd you-?"

Dempsey chuckled. "Listen, if you wanna be in the military, you gotta learn not to ignore a large object behind somebody's back. I was surprised you didn't notice."

Then the bus stopped.

"Huh?" Jakob wondered out loud, looking out the window.

They were at his house. He checked his watch, 3:00 AM.

He sighed, undoing one dog tag and hopping out of the bus.

He walked up the path to the door, knocking on it.

His mother came to the door, wide-eyed.

"Jakob! I saw the note! You get back in here right-"

Jakob put up a hand.

"I'm still going," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the dog tag. "Have this to remember me by."

She took it hesitantly, glaring at the Galil that Jakob shouldered. She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. "You're not going with them-"

"Yes. I am," he said, pulling away.

He exited, squirming out of his mother's grasp and walking back toward the bus, which Dempsey leant against.

Jakob stopped at the bus's door. "Oh, and if you call the cops for kidnapping, they won't get within five feet of us," he called back.

"And why not?" his mother countered.

"Because," Jakob began, "anybody that comes at us dies."

His mother's jaw dropped to the floor at his dark remark. No….. it sounded like a _promise_. That scared her even more.


	10. Unstable

**I know. I'm a lazy little crap. The last version of this chapter was a joke, if you didn't catch on.**

 **Yeah. I'm a real punk.**

The bus rattled from years use, irritating Jakob as he tried to rest his head on the window sill to sleep. But the vibrations of the bus made it near impossible to fall into unconsciousness.

They'd been driving for two hours, and he hadn't slept a wink. Peter had stopped driving, with Dempsey taking back over.

Jakob cradled his Galil, finding some physical comfort in having the large, deadly weapon in his arms.

It was a few more minutes into the ride when his head snapped up, startling Peter, who sat next to him.

" _Crap,"_ Jakob thought. He'd forgot his meds.

The problem with Jakob was that he wasn't exactly… stable without medication. It wasn't schizophrenia, no. But something about him changed. He had a darker look in his eyes, not the happy 'go screw yourself, haters' look on his face. He had a larger tendency for violence. Physical violence. The kind that if somebody ticked him off enough, they wouldn't be recognizable when he was through.

In a way, he was almost as unstable as Richtofen.

" _Whoa,"_ he thought to himself. _"Can't go_ that _far."_

Then again, Richtofen was plagued by many incurable problems, while Jakob just had PTSD.

It was something he didn't like to talk about, and whenever anybody would ask, he'd give them a look that made him a lot less friendly-looking. It was something between an irritated glare and a look that could kill.

The meds probably had worn off by now. He shook his head as the bus heaved to a halt.

"What's going on?" he asked Dempsey.

"We're outta gas. Gotta stop so we can refill," Dempsey said, stepping out of the bus and refilling for free, since the service station seemed to be boarded up from the inside. Whoever was in there was probably terrified. Nobody could blame them.

Jakob stepped out as well, taking a walk around the perimeter and thinking to himself. He, along with everyone else failed to notice the police cruisers silently surrounding the gas station.

Jakob was grabbed by the arm by a SWAT officer.

"You're comin' with us kid."

Everyone piled out of the bus, reaching for their weapons.

A man climbed out of his cruiser, holding a megaphone.

"I suggest you put away your weapons," his voiced boomed through. "And considering this is a gas station, one stray bullet will blow us all up."

Dempsey emerged from behind the bus, holding up his M1911. "Let the kid go!"

"I'm sorry, but you have illegally taken a boy from his home. That's kidnapping. Whether he wants to come with us or not, you're gonna stay right there, he's gonna get home, and we'll detain you afterward," the man said. "I suggest you put down your weapon, sir."

"Let me go, you asshat!" Jakob yelled, struggling against the SWAT member's grip. Jakob's eyes were taking on a dark, angry aura.

The grip tightened, and Dempsey saw Jakob reach for something in his belt.

 _CRACK!_

The SWAT member fell to the floor, and Dempsey saw Jakob holding a smoking M1911 pointed at the wounded SWAT member, who was clutching his stomach.

Jakob proceeded to fire several warning shots in the officers' directions, hitting a few and also shooting some tires, flattening them. "GET BACK ON THE BUS!"

Everyone did so, and Dempsey started the newly-filled bus. Jakob reloaded and wounded a few officers before sprinting for the moving, opened-door bus. He reached the railing before he was grabbed by an officer.

"Help!" Jakob said, unable to reload his pistol. He held on to the rail for dear life as the bus sped through the empty street. The officer kept a death grip, holding onto a window.

That was a mistake. That was Richtofen's window.

The mad Doctor opened the window and slammed his fist on the officer's fingers, causing him to let go. He ran to the front of the bus, holding onto Jakob as he reached into his pocket.

He produced a scalpel, handing it to the teen.

Jakob took it gladly, stabbing the officer's hand repeatedly until he let go.

Richtofen pulled Jakob back in.

Jakob breathed heavily, settling into the seat. Richtofen sat beside him, taking back his scalpel and patting his shoulder. It was obviously entertaining to the Doctor, but impacted Jakob differently.

Now he was sure the meds wore off. He probably killed about four people, and he felt no remorse. He felt…. joy. Not as intense as the Doctor's, but it was laced with a light hint of sadism.

Jakob shuddered.


	11. Nightmare

_Happy New Year, Merry Christmas! Wish death upon me if you want ('cause of my lateness). :P_

Jakob had finally been able to go to sleep despite the excitement he felt from possibly killing several officers. Richtofen had, of course, been proud of the slightly sadistic act, as if it were his own son doing it, and had attempted to comfort the boy, who in return didn't seem bothered at first.

But as time passed, he eventually started to show some remorse, going so far as to pray not to go to Hell silently as Richtofen pat his back.

"It's okay," Richtofen had repeated quietly. He had looked over him for wounds, finding none except for the second slight emotional scar Jakob now had. That's when Jakob had fallen asleep.

Jakob dreamt of the chain of events that gave him post-traumatic stress disorder.

 _He was in a dark, empty room, hearing rain pound the concrete outside. The world was much hazier than it was before._

 _Jakob slowly got up, going to a door and opening it. Outside he saw a man walking down the street, with his hands shoved in his pockets._

 _Jakob looked down at a puddle to see his 13-year-old self. He suddenly remembered what this was. This was…. that day. He hadn't noticed any familiarity at first, but the fact that he looked down to see himself a year younger, along with the setting, reminded him that this was it._

 _Unfortunately, he couldn't move on his own free will, as his mind seemed to be just replaying the events over._

 _He returned his attention to the man, who was walking in his direction, keeping his eyes focused on the sidewalk._

 _Once again, Jakob had no control over his actions, and walked towards the man, trying to slip past him._

 _That's when the man drew the knife, pushing him to the ground and demanding money._

" _I don't have any," Jakob explained in fear._

 _The man didn't like that answer._

 _He brought down the knife onto Jakob, who grabbed it, fighting the man with all of his strength. The man gained control, pushing towards Jakob's face._

 _Jakob redirected it, but not enough. The next thing he knew, the knife was cutting deep beside his eyebrow. Jakob screamed in agony, doing the only thing he could._

 _Kill this man._

 _Jakob jammed his thumb into one of the man's eyes, causing him to drop the knife and clutch his eye._

 _Jakob pushed the man off of him and grabbed the knife as the now half blinded man reached for a gun. The man pointed the weapon at Jakob, about to pull the trigger, when Jakob pushed it away quickly. He plunged the knife into the man's arm._

 _Jakob stomped on the man's gun-wielding hand, and took it from him, aiming for his head._

 _Jakob pulled the trigger…. five times._

 _He jumped back as the man became quiet and still._

 _What had he done?_

" _It was self-defense!" Jakob tried to reason with himself. "I had no choice!"_

 _He could hear sirens as he gazed at the impaled, one-eyed dead man in front of him._

 _He came to his senses, jumping up and running away from the scene._

 _First of all, who'd seen the incident? Second… why was he running anyway? It was self-defense!_

 _Now he'd be under heavier suspicion for murder just for fleeing the crime scene. Jakob continued to run home._

 _He didn't look back_.

Jakob woke up with a start, catching the attention of Richtofen. After confirming he was fine, Richtofen returned to his own slumber.

Jakob felt his face, tracing the scar next to his eyebrow. He felt a hot liquid slowly emanating from it. He furrowed his other brow, taking his hand away to see the wound had….. opened.

" _What?"_ he thought. He felt it again to wipe it off…. but it had healed.

"What…"

Jakob shook his head. How did that heal so fast?

" **Long time no see."**

"No….." Jakob mumbled.

" **I'm still here. You can't erase what you did."**

"G-get out of my head."

" **I AM your head."**

"No… you're not," Jakob insisted.

" **Tell that to your murder victim."**

"S-shut up, Max," Jakob commanded the voice in his head.

" **Back to the names, eh? Especially considering that's your middle name. Looks like you remember me more than you want to."**

"I said….. shut up. G-go away."

" **You're stuck with me until you get back your meds, Jake."**

"I said shut up!" Jakob whispered slightly louder.

And then it was quiet and still, save for the worried glance Dempsey was giving Jakob via the rear-view mirror.


	12. Update

Sorry, guys. But I would like you to know that I am NOT killing the story. Absolutely not. Nein.

But, I apologize for my writer's block.

Oh, and Happy Birthday to me yesterday :P


	13. A Plan

***Hides behind Dempsey***

 **Don't hate me! Writer's block, along with pure laziness aren't easy things to handle!**

 **But thanks for not killing me, guys! :D**

 **Here is your update (finally)!**

"What is taking so long!?" Samantha Maxis fumed at the zombie attempting to open the bunker.

The zombie by the finger print scanner said nothing, repeatedly scanning the Vice President's finger. Eventually the zombie turned to Samantha.

"Um….. it won't open….."

"I can see that, puppet. I mean why!?" Samantha retorted.

"His DNA isn't being accepted. Only the President's will work."

Samantha threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "Dimwits! I never should have given you sentience."

"It's not our fault, my queen," the helmet wearing Nazi zombie stated, kneeling on one rotting knee.

"Shut it, Adolf. I don't want your excuses! Your men are useless right now. You, however, are smart and resourceful. Order your men to gather explosives."

"But, my queen, that bunker can survive a nuke," Adolf pointed out.

"But what material could survive a 115 infused explosion, Adolf?" Samantha retorted.

Adolf nodded understandingly, standing up to his full height. He beckoned one zombie to his side. The zombie immediately responded, right at his commander's side.

"General Rommel, I want you to take some of your men and search upstairs for any explosives. The dead bodies of those Marines may bear some."

General Rommel nodded. "Yes, mein Führer."

General Rommel climbed the staircase leading up to the main White House, several zombie men following him.

On the other side of the door, the President, his family, the Secretary of Defense, several body guards, a few Marines in dress blues stationed in the bunker, and Tyler Moors resided in panic.

The President, Barack Obama, was trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"So, let me get this straight, a demented little girl, and Zombie Hitler and Zombie Erwin Rommel are trying to get in here? This is madness!"

One Marine, whose last name was Sparta, coughed, covering up a laugh.

The President threw a glare in his direction, before returning to his own thoughts.

"Mr. President," Tyler spoke up.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Is there a way…. out of here?" Tyler questioned.

Obama thought for a second. "I've only been in here a handful of times, but-"

First Lieutenant Michael Sparta snapped to attention, interrupting him. "Permission to speak, Mr. President, sir?"

Obama paused, but nodded.

The Lieutenant snapped to attention again. "There's a secret passage leading to the front lawn, sir."

Obama raised an eyebrow. "The same passage JFK used to sneak Marilyn Monroe into the White House?"

Sparta stifled a small laugh. "Correct, sir."

Obama nodded. "Then we've got no time to waste. Lieutenant, evacuate everyone, and ensure they get to the Pentagon safely."

Sparta nodded, slamming his fist on a small red button nearby and opening a wall.

"Everyone, single file," Sparta threw a glance at Obama, who didn't move from his spot.

The room was eventually empty, except for three men; Barack Obama, Tyler Moors, and one of the President's bodyguards.

Obama turned to the two armed men.

"Either of you know how to make a bomb?"


	14. Jakob and Hyde

"Excuse me, Mr. President?" Moors asked.

Obama looked at the two expectantly. "What?"

"You just asked if we knew how to make a bomb."

"And? Do you?"

"Well, yes but-" Moors was interrupted by a loud explosion outside the door.

" _For God's sake, Adolf. Get a BIGGER explosive!"_ a shrill voice said.

Samantha.

"I suggest we do it quickly," the bodyguard said.

"So, let's hurry up!"

"But how are we gonna-" Moors began.

"Uh…. Moors? Mr. President?" the bodyguard called. "I found something."

The bodyguard stood in front of a framed picture of John F. Kennedy, tilted slightly to reveal a small opening. In it was a safe.

"Excellent, Agent Smith," Obama praised.

Moors leaned in closer, finding a small note on the side of the safe. "I found something else."

He unfolded the note and read it aloud.

" _Property of Lieutenant John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Use only as a last resort. The code is somewhere in this room."_

"Ah, great. This is gonna suck," Moors concluded.

Obama leaned towards the framed picture, finding a small misalignment in the upper right corner of the picture. He pulled on it, and it easily peeled away. It revealed two letters:

ER

"Looks like we found something else," he stated, peeling the rest back.

"LANCER," Moors read. "That must be it."

Another explosion.

" _One more should do!"_

Moors quickly entered the code and swung open the safe. Inside was a detonator.

Obama took it in his hand, examining the red button. Then he glanced around the room, looking for the supposed explosives. "Looks like the 35th President of the United States had the same idea I did."

He turned towards the two soldiers in front of him. "Gentleman. Let's depart."

He stepped through the passage, the other two men following. He "closed" the wall, and pressed his ear against it.

One more explosion.

" _YEESSS! Finally."_

Footsteps.

Silence.

" _Where are they?! Where could they have gone?!"_

Then Obama pressed the button, shortly before running through the rest of the passage with the other two men.

On the other side, Samantha and her men were immediately bombarded with several explosions. Fire spread as the President's bunker was slowly obliterated.

Only three people were left standing as the smoke cleared. Samantha, Hitler, and Rommel.

The three of them hadn't been fazed, nor scratched, but were angry beyond belief.

Samantha threw her teddy bear on the ground and yelled in frustration.

/

 _Location: Central America, Somewhere in the South_

 _Year:2015_

It had been hours since Jakob had said anything, and Dempsey began to worry.

The kid had been _telling himself to shut up_. Was he insane? Did he have multiple personalities? Oh God, was he schizophrenic?

Dempsey didn't know, but as the sun slowly started to rise a bit higher into late morning, Dempsey knew the others would probably be waking up by now. He pulled over on the side, waking Peter and having him cover for him. He looked over at Jakob.

He clearly hadn't slept.

He wanted to comfort the kid, tell him it'd be alright. But at the same time, he felt he might want some distance.

"Dempsey."

Dempsey snapped his gaze back to Jakob.

"I know you heard me talking to myself," Jakob said calmly.

Dempsey took a quick look behind him. Mostly everyone was asleep, save for Takeo, who was meditating. He turned back to the kid, who was now eyeing him.

"Yeah," Dempsey said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm not insane like Richtofen," Jakob said, gesturing to the German, who had moved to give him space earlier. "There's something you should know."

"You can tell me anything, kid," Dempsey assured.

Jakob hesitated. "I… have PTSD."

Dempsey was dumbfounded. Actually, it hit him two different times at once. The first, relief. After all, there was a strong chance he had PTSD too. The second, confusion. How'd a kid this age get one of the suckiest conditions ever?

"I killed somebody about a year ago," Jakob said, reading the expression on Dempsey's face. "I-it was self-defense. And… I went slightly overboard."

"Like with the officers," Dempsey concluded, mostly to himself.

"…..yeah. Now you've seen that side of me," Jakob said. He chuckled despite himself. "Now the Doc's gonna be excited."

"Heh, yeah," Dempsey chuckled, mostly humorlessly. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Not exactly ideal, eh?"

"There's something else I should tell you, before it's too late," Jakob said, looking forward once again.

"What?"

"The meds they gave me at first….. sorta messed with my brain chemistry. I mean, it _was_ experimental. Guess they didn't expect it'd give me another personality," Jakob said, sighing.

"That why you were telling yourself to shut up?" Dempsey asked knowingly.

"Yeah. That was Max," Jakob said sheepishly.

"Oddly specific name," Dempsey mused.

"It's actually my middle name," Jakob admitted. "He started out as a voice in my head, then sorta became an unwanted imaginary friend."

Dempsey hummed thoughtfully.

"So…. if I start acting a bit strange for a long period of time, know that I'm probably dead."

Dempsey's eyes widened. "D-dead?!"

"Not _literally_ , but I mean… this side of me. Max is just so _angry_ at the world… but he has come out for the greater good before. Mostly it's just to remind me about when I killed that guy, though. Just know that no matter how bad he gets, he'll never turn on you. He's fiercely loyal, just unstable," Jakob assured. "But that doesn't stop him from trying to kill things, in a sadistic kind of way, not for the greater good."

"Like a flipside version of you," Dempsey reasoned.

"Heh. It's funny, I always would use that exact term for him," Jakob chuckled slightly. He looked at Dempsey. "Guess that's why you're my favorite character. We think alike."

Dempsey gave Jakob a genuine smile, the kind he'd only use on his daughter. It was like he had a little brother. It was nice.

He chuckled and pounded his chest once. "'Merica, kid."

"Yeah. 'Merica," Jakob agreed.

They fist bumped as Dempsey rubbed the back of his neck again. "So, uh….. where're we headed next?"

"I think McDonald's is good," Jakob said.

"McDonald's?"

"It's a restaurant," Jakob said. "Fast food."

Dempsey nodded.

Jakob glanced out the window. "Hey, I know where we are. We're in the city." He leaned over to Peter. "Look for a building with two golden arches in the shape of an 'M'. That's where we're gonna eat."

Peter glanced back at him and nodded.

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, they saw a rather large McDonald's with maybe a few people inside. After everyone woke up, the all unloaded and walked into the building.

"Welcome to-… uh," the cashier said, looking up and reeling at the sight of so many people. "C-can I take your order?"

Everyone got the same thing: Double Quarter Pounders. It was really odd, however, that nobody commented on the guns.

Jakob's first concern was how they were going to pay for it all, but as it turns out, Arlington had stolen over $300 dollars from the gun store's cash register.

Dang.

He happily paid for it all, even buying a cookie for himself. It was times like these that made people wonder how Arlington became a criminal. He bought a _cookie_. Just… wow.

To Jakob's surprise, Arlington walked over to him and held it out.

"Here, kid."

"Weasel? You bought that for me?"

Weasel rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "I mean, you let us stay in your house, even if your mother kicked us out afterward. Plus you wanna save the world. Besides, what's a cookie anyway? I still got about $150 in my wallet."

Weasel flashed a genuine, not sleazy grin as Jakob took the cookie and thanked him.

Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived, as a nearby TV sparked to life.

 _BREAKING NEWS_

Jakob frowned and bit into his burger.

 _Several SWAT agents and local police personnel were sent to a local gas station to retrieve a runaway by the name of Jakob James. He is depicted in the picture below. It should be noted he is armed and dangerous. He alone injured several officers before getting into a school bus and fleeing the scene, brutally shaking off a straggling officer._

It showed the bodycam of an officer, a pistol clearly in view as well as Jakob himself, pointing his M1911 at an officer near him.

It was a freeze-frame, and as the newswoman rambled more information, the TV played it back over and over. About 10 seconds worth of footage.

One thing that Jakob noticed: his eyes.

Instead of the bright, azure blue eyes he had come to develop and love, there was a blood red tint to them. It arguably could have been redeye, but no reflection or trick of the light seemed present.

Jakob's expression changed from confused to horrified as soon as the realization hit him.

The civilians in the restaurant spared scared glances at Jakob, but quickly returned to the screen.

 _We were able to talk to the straggling officer mentioned before. Here's what we gathered._

Sure enough, the picture changed to a rather anxious looking officer with a bandaged hand. It was the same guy.

He looked at the camera in defeat.

"We….. we just wanted to help the kid get back home," the officer said. "So I grabbed onto him as he climbed on the bus, but the next thing I know, my fingers were being slammed by somebody and my gripping hand is being stabbed."

Jakob's eye twitched.

"Can you describe the person who slammed the window?" the newswoman asked.

He frowned. "He wore a Nazi uniform. And not a fake one. It was genuine, with the right fabric and shoulderboards. Even the swastika couldn't have been faked. I don't even understand…"

 _POP!_

A bullet lodged itself in the TV screen as everyone turned their eyes back to the mentioned teen.

His eyes were dark, giving off an aura of red. He was gripping his smoking M1911. He said nothing, getting up and leaving. His twenty-something accomplices joined him shortly after.

He sat in the front of the bus, gripping the seat tightly.

" **They don't know just who they're talking about."**


	15. Ground Zero

Location: New York City

Year: 2015

Date: November 5

He sipped his coffee in anticipation as he gazed out of the window of the small café. Interesting course of events the past few days, indeed.

He'd heard about the attacks on D.C., and was surprisingly disinterested. With all the crap America was doing? It was only to be expected that'd it'd blow up in their faces.

The fact that the dead were walking in Washington D.C., however, struck him as odd. He knew the Americans were smart, but how'd they manage that?

Or maybe, it was an unseen force. The news report on the small cheap television perched in the corner of the café clearly said a little girl had been present. She'd said herself hours later her name was Samantha Maxis.

He'd growled at the name. He'd played enough Zombies to know who it was, and the fact she was real?

It just pissed him off.

Like hell he'd join her side. She planned to take over the world. This was his world. Humanity's world. If this little girl thought she could take it over with some gun-toting zombies, she was poorly mistaken.

Her threat had been pointed towards everyone. That meant Russia.

Viktor Pavlov wasn't going to have any of that.

Hailing from the Motherland, Viktor had been eager to seek a career in photojournalism in the Big Apple. He'd taken a plane and hadn't even settled in for a day when the news reports came on.

Viktor sighed.

So now, here he was. Stuck in an American café with a bad tasting cup of coffee. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small flask with the Hammer and Sickle on it. He poured some vodka into the drink and to a sip. He hummed in satisfaction.

Much better.

The flask had been his grandfather's, the famous proclaimed badass Yakov Pavlov of the Red Army.

Viktor's father had received it before he and Yakov had parted ways when he was twelve. It was just the right age for history to screw up to the point that Yakov was thought to have no kin by the name of Vladimir.

That'd been his father's name.

They'd reunited at his deathbed, where Yakov apologized for the need of separation. He was forgiven moments before he died.

Six years later, Viktor was born.

His early life had been uneventful, and no tragedies took place. He'd finished High School, had not attended college, and joined the Soviet Army at the age of 19 as a Combat Engineer for eight years, working through the collapse of the Soviets and the new name of the Russian Armed Forces.

He'd been out for one year, and here he was. He was actually waiting for a plane to arrive. It was supposed to come in a few hours to pick him up and fly him to D.C. to get some pictures and interviews, or maybe help if he could.

He sipped his coffee and turned his journey over in his mind. Despite the chaos, it was pretty successful.

Then his eyes flicked to the TV.

A boy was on the screen, holding an American pistol. A newswoman was rambling, but Viktor didn't care what she had to say. He was focused on the boy's shooting at the officers.

The name Jakob James was running across the screen.

Viktor tuned the newswoman back in and found out the boy had run from home with several other people, eventually being cornered at a gas station by several SWAT. They'd fought their way out.

Then a man appeared on screen. He held a bandaged hand close to his torso, some lacerations still visible on exposed flesh. He quietly explained his side of the story, until he mentioned something that nearly made Viktor crush his foam coffee cup.

Nazi Uniform.

Viktor quickly let up the pressure on his cup and took a deep breath.

He hated Nazis. They were scum. They were evil.

They should be burning in hell.

Again, Viktor played Zombies, and he knew of Edward Richtofen. He knew of his unwillingness to be a Nazi. But that didn't stop him from wanting to rip off that armband and shove it down his throat.

He calmed down as the broadcast ended and he swiftly got up from his seat, paying for his coffee and downing the rest of the spiked drink.

He pushed through the door outside. Chilly morning.

He attempted to warm himself up as he made his way near the 2 World Trade Center building.

A majesty, he admired, compared to the rubble it was built upon from the terrorist attack many years ago. It was one of the many things he admired about the Americans. They could rebuild.

He looked further into the sky, seeing a nearby plane. It seemed to be coming towards the airport. Perhaps it was his?

Reagan International D.C. had been in the process of shutting down once the attacks sparked, but NYC had yet to do so. He figured he'd be on one of the last flights to Dulles before it shut down too.

He checked his watch.

The timing was about right, he supposed.

Something panged in his chest, however, as he saw the descent of the large plane.

It seemed…. unnatural. Swaying a bit. Wasn't that dangerous.

A few people joined him as they saw the plane. It seemed as if there was a fight for control within the plane itself. The plane descended faster and faster, slowly turning towards the direction of the 2 World Trade Center.

Viktor was the first to catch on.

He stepped back cautiously as the realization hit him.

Samantha is going to crash that plane.

He heard yelling, though he wasn't sure from who. He felt the vibration in his throat, so perhaps it was him. But he couldn't tell. All he knew was that he was waving his arms as people obeyed whatever words he was saying. Everything was ringing right now.

The plane crashed into the building with a sickening shatter of glass as it completely cleared the building, before spiraling and damaging several other buildings in its crash.

The building buckled almost immediately as Viktor heard screams come from the inside of the building as well as from around him.

The building fell onto the hard concrete in the opposite direction of Viktor. He heard sirens. Screaming.

Silence.

He stumbled away from the now rising smoke as he shifted through nearby debris.

He ignored paramedics attempting to stop him from advancing any further. He simply shook them off if they made contact, and ignored them otherwise.

Once he was near the waterfront, he ran his hand along his pockets as his fingers closed around a Makarov PM. He felt comforted almost immediately. Righteous anger coursed through him.

He didn't care if this wasn't his country.

He didn't care if Russia mostly resented the Americans.

This was his fight now, and Samantha would have hell to pay if she continued. If America was first in the attack on the superpowers, Russia could be next.

Viktor Pavlov wasn't letting that happen.

 **Remember 9/11. My prayers and best wishes go to those who lost anyone in the attacks. I apologize if this had any offensive content or triggers, but I will not be taking it down. May God be with you.**


	16. Der Reise

"Nein! Beenden Sie mich wie Ihr Sohn behandeln!" Jakob cried.

"Aber ich bin so stolz auf dich! Sie haben frei gebrochen und jetzt bist du ein Sadist!" Richtofen countered.

"Du bist verrückt," Jakob said bluntly.

"Ich kenne. Ich dachte, wir, dass im Theater etabliert?" Richtofen reminded. "Außerdem wissen Sie, dass ich Recht habe. Du haben sogar eine gespaltene Persönlichkeit! Es ist PERFEKT!"

"Jesus Christus, Richtofen," Jakob said, defeated.

"JA! Sie werden wissen, dein Schicksal! Wir waren bedeutete für immer zusammen als Mentor und Protegé zu sein! HAHAHAHAHA!" Richtofen jeered triumphantly.

" _Jesus Christ, Richtofen,"_ Jakob thought again.

In hindsight, getting into a heated discussion about his mental health in German with a _German_ doctor wasn't the best idea. He was just glad he spoke fluent German, otherwise that argument would've been lost a lot quicker.

To be honest, he didn't even know what sparked the change in language. It started off as slight venting, in English. Then Richtofen started muttering things to himself in German. To make Richtofen understand that he knew what he was saying, he called him out in German.

Maybe that was it. He didn't know anymore.

He slumped back in his seat as Richtofen giggled to himself. The giggling eventually died down to a content sigh as the doctor moved further into the back of the bus, next to Billy.

"Kid? Er…. Max?" a gruff voice said, now beside him.

"It's me, Dempsey," Jakob assured, not meeting his eyes. He heard a sigh of relief.

"You seem pretty tuckered out. The kraut didn't give you a hard time, right?" Dempsey asked.

"Nah. He's just convinced I'm his protégé. Guess he held it back when I took it out on those officers, but after the episode in that restaurant and me venting to him, he couldn't hold it anymore," Jakob theorized.

Dempsey stifled a hardy laugh. "He….. he thinks… you're gonna be his….. protégé? That's rich."

Jakob chuckled too. "Yeah, pretty dumb. But I gotta say, our relationship has improved a lot since first meeting."

"Careful now. Don't want him getting clingy," Dempsey teased.

"Pretty sure he's not interested in me for any reason other than teaching me his 'ways'," Jakob concluded, making air quotes with his fingers. "Thinks I'm like his son or something."

"Could be a way of masking something, y'know," Dempsey said blandly.

Jakob raised a brow and looked at him. "Masking?"

"Yeah, y'know, like how Nikolai drinks his vodka. He's hiding. You of all people should know how apathetic Richtofen is. Sure, he screams in delight when he gets a headshot, but there's a serious, almost intimidating side to him. No insanity, just apathy," Dempsey said, shuddering slightly. "Usually happens when he's in some office that he always randomly has wherever we are. Doesn't actually scare me, though. And I don't mean that to keep my bravado. It's more unnerving than anything else. I could kick that kraut's ass in a heartbeat."

"That's actually news to me," Jakob said. "Well, besides the night he threatened me. But even then he was acting insane."

Now Dempsey raised a brow. "Really? Thought your game told all about us."

"Naw," Jakob said in confirmation. "Well, it depends if you mean the Nazi Richtofen. I only know the insane, sadistic, hardly serious German we all know and love. Or loathe. Whatever."

Dempsey made a grunt of interest and leaned back in the seat, his arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. "S'weird. I always figured….. I dunno… that if whatever we did was documented – y'know, saving the world – that the Doc's apathy would be more prominent in the books. Sure, insanity could be a factor, especially with all the people he's killed, but… he just seems like he's too serious sometimes."

"What'd you expect you'd be put down as?" Jakob asked curiously.

"Heh," Dempsey huffed, looking up in thought. "Guess I'd be the patriot. The one with fierce loyalty to his nation, who enjoyed killing freakbags. I'd just hope the people wrote it would also see me as just a guy trying to survive. Joined the Marines, had a wife and five-year-old kid back home. I just… I just always hoped that I wouldn't be forgotten. It'd be times like that I wondered what Richtofen left behind."

"Well, y'know he's been through a lot," Jakob said.

" _ **So have you, bud."**_

" _But I'm not a schizophrenic."_

Jakob's eyes flashed a deep red.

" _ **Heh heh. You sure about that?"**_

Dempsey raised a brow again at Jakob's comment, not noticing the brief eye color change. "No, I don't. What'd he go through?"

"Well, besides the trenches of France and a theater of war, he lost his parents."

" _ **Probably more than that."**_

"Oh. Oh….. well, damn…"

"Yeah. I'd be pretty dark if that happened to me… darker than I already am. But luckily or unluckily, – depends on how you look at it – he didn't kill himself. Maxis supported him," Jakob said, keeping his voice low.

" _ **We wouldn't be in this mess if he hadn't."**_

"Jeez. I didn't know…." Dempsey said, sagging a bit, actually _feeling bad_ for the doctor he'd grown to hate. He lifted his head a little. "In the swamp, he was the only one who didn't give a narrative on his past. When we weren't killin' he was so quiet. I can see why. You'd think Nik would be hesitant, but hell, he could hardly remember whatever didn't involve vodka or his wives. Guess it was since he had an outlet."

"Alcohol," Jakob said.

"Yeah."

It was silent for a few minutes as the two thought about things. Dempsey broke the silence after a while.

"So what's next? We've already eaten, and D.C.'s been attacked. We headed there?"

" _ **Maybe we should just find that brat and blow her brains out."**_

Jakob shook his head vigorously at Max's attempts to make him voice something he shouldn't.

" _ **OW! Don't shake like that, jackass! There's two of us in here!"**_

" _Then shut up."_

"Well, I think we should start with D.C. to be honest, see how the President is faring. I don't know if he escaped or not, but chances are he'll have some sort of escort. The Prez is _rarely_ seen without an entourage," Jakob planned.

Dempsey nodded. "Same was for Truman. 'Specially after Nagasaki and Hiroshima."

Jakob nodded back. "So, my guess is that the White House is abandoned and that they've probably regrouped at the Pentagon."

"Don't ya think Sam will be there too?" Dempsey asked.

Jakob froze. He looked down sadly as he remembered "Five". Zombies _had_ made it into the Pentagon once. What stopped them – _especially_ now that they could use _guns_ – from breaking in and wrecking the place again?

"President Kennedy and the other three he came with were attacked in the Pentagon," Jakob said.

"In the game or real life?" Dempsey asked.

"The game. But now that these freakbags have _sentience_ , the Pentagon just might be screwed."

"They'd probably be in DEFCON 1 by now, kid. I'm sure they'll lock the place down," Dempsey reassured.

"I hope so... after all, the Pentagon probably has the most _important intelligence_ that I can think of," Jakob said, running a hand through his hair.

/

"Jesus H. Christ. This place is cramped."

"We're underground! 'Course it's cramped! These tunnels haven't been used in years!"

"Gentleman, can you kindly stop bickering and help me maneuver?"

"Yes Mr. President," came the two other males' replies.

Obama huffed as he was joined by the other two in feeling around the walls for a clear path. It took a while before they reached a dead end.

"Well shit."

"It's a dead end."

"Really? Didn't notice, Smith."

"Feel around for a hatch on the walls or the floor!"

….

"AAAAH!"

"What!? What is it?!"

"Something just grabbed my leg!"

"Sorry, that was me."

"What?! How-?"

"Uh….. gentlemen? Which one of you is touching my neck?"

"Oh god. Sorry, Mr. President."

"Let's abandon those formalities for now. Call me Barack, please."

"Uh…. sheesh. Okay… Barack."

"See? Easier on both of us."

"Yeah, rolls off the tongue. _Barack_."

" _Barack._ "

" _Baraaaaack_."

" _Barrrrraaaaaaaacckkkkkkkk_."

"What about _Barry_? _BARRRRRYYYYY_!"

"Here's _BARRY_!"

"Okay, both of you. Stop."

"Sorry….. _Barack_."

"I can fire you, Agent Smith."

"Erm…. right. My apologies, Mr. President."

"You may both call me that as long as you stop when we are in company. Otherwise, don't. _Please_."

"You are _really_ down-to-earth for being the most powerful man in the world."

"Thanks, Moors. I don't have much time left to make that impression."

"It's only the 5th of November. You still got time, Prez."

"True. But don't call me _Prez_."

"Right."

The President felt around the ceiling, finding a wooden trapdoor.

"Aha! I think I found a trapdoor."

"Isn't that supposed to lead to the front lawn?"

"Uh….. yeah."

"We sure we wanna go up there?"

"I suggest we try to make it to the five sided fortress we all know and love."

"If you mean the Pentagon, that's actually a good idea, Smith."

"You doubted me?"

"To be fair, I don't really have any prior contact to you. This is your first day, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Not what I expected."

"Hah. First day on the job and your town's attacked by zombies. Sorta like Resident Evil."

"Oh my God, stop, Moors."

"Heuheuheuheuheu."

"STOP."

"Raccoon City!"

"Shut up, please. Both of you. Now help me push this."

They did, shortly before getting showered with some dirt. The grass-covered door opened as each man climbed out.

"Lawn got torn up less than I thought," Moors observed, shielding his eyes from the light. "Especially considering a heli crashed here."

"Huh?!" both the President and Smith exclaimed.

"Yeah. It's around the side, though."

"Well, where are we supposed to go now?" the President asked.

"My car's a couple blocks from here," Smith spoke up. "There's not exactly a parking lot here."

"Eh, okay."

So, after a ten-minute walk, the three men got into the red Mercedes.

"Pretty nice car for a first day on the job, Smith," Moors admired.

"Thanks….. I guess."

One 11-minute ride later, they were stopped within 100 feet of the Pentagon. There were several military vehicles nearby, and the sentry stopping them look _really_ stressed.

"Who are you?"

Well, _that_ was a lot less questions than they expected.

Smith held up his ID. "Nathan Smith. Secret Service. I'm carrying precious cargo."

Smith threw a cautious thumb towards the President in the back seat. The President waved.

"Hello there."

The sentry's eyes widened as he quickly rambled something about suspending DEFCON for a three-minute window to allow three new people inside.

Sure enough, they were in DEFCON 1. Not a surprise.

They were escorted out of their vehicle with haste as the trio were practically forced through security and into an inner sanctum.

"Mr. President! Thank God you survived!"

The President's gaze snapped to the Secretary of Defense, right beside his family, all safe and sound.

/

"Okay, good news and bad news."

Everyone on the bus looked at Peter expectantly.

Peter had parked the bus in a small alcove, ensuring that nobody would notice them.

Peter turned around in his seat.

"Atlanta International Airport is close by."

The bus erupted into a dull roar of grunts and murmurs.

"What's the bad news?" Banana asked.

"It's closed due to the terroristic activity occurring in the country. But, I doubt we would've made it onto a plane anyway, so I figured we'd steal one."

"How do you think we could manage that, McCain?" Dempsey questioned.

Peter flashed a crooked smile. "I'm an OSS agent, Corporal. I could get in _easily_."

"What about the rest of us?" Dempsey asked.

"If I can sneak into the terminal and get a plane, I'll figure out some way to get you guys in."

"My foot," Smokey muttered.

"Fine. You wanna know how? You go in when the place is empty. _My_ goal is to make sure they evacuate," Peter submitted. "Think about it, guys. Reagan and Dulles are already shut down in D.C. and this is the _busiest_ airport in the world. I guarantee they're evacuating as we speak."

Everyone seemed content with that logic, and Peter walked into the airport easily.

He was halted immediately after hopping over several of the barriers that would normally organize the searching lines.

There were several armed policemen near what Peter assumed would have been the boarding setup for the last plane. Instead, it was closed off, leaving the plane outside idle.

"Stop right there. Keep your hands where we can see them and show us your identification. No one passes."

Peter nodded, pulling out the old, worn, slightly singed OSS ID card and presenting it to the officer.

The officer seemed to glance at the name and nothing else before returning his attention to Peter.

"You are Doctor Peter McCain, correct?" he asked.

"Correct," Peter confirmed.

The officer nodded and returned his attention to the card. He raised a brow, opening his mouth, then closing it.

He cleared his throat and glanced at Peter. "Are you aware the OSS has been disavowed for over 70 years, Doctor McCain?"

"Yes," Peter said.

"Then why, may I ask, do you possess an identification card from them?"

"You ask a lot of questions, officer," Peter said, staring at the officer. He leaned in slightly. "Questions that'll get you killed."

The officer was on the ground in seconds as Peter's fist collided with his throat, before Peter pulled out his Colt and wounded four more officers. Nothing fatal, but they wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Peter stepped over the groaning heap of policemen and made his way to where the jetway was attached but closed. Peter was about to attempt to open it when a huge screen behind him came to life.

"We have reports of terrorist attacks in New York City….."

Peter turned around sharply, pulling out a radio and contacting the bus. "You guys hear that?"

" _Heck yes, we hear it. It's LOUD,"_ the radio crackled. Sounded like Jakob.

"It appears that late this morning, November 5th, a plane crashed into the 2 World Trade Center. The building has already collapsed, and everyone in the building is presumed dead as their bodies have not yet been recovered. There are still good Samaritans and several firefighters attempting to sift through the rubble to find survivors, though the chances are looking bleak."

The grim-faced reporter soon was out of frame as the large collapsed building came into view. There was still dust settling as several grieving families were kept behind yellow tape.

"The World Trade Center has not been attacked since the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. This is obviously a hard time for many people, as two more buildings were taken out in its fall," the reporter said sadly, gulping. "S-several people have dubbed this event….. 11/5."

Everyone in the bus was silent.

Richtofen sat in the back, pondering. He, of course, had known nothing of the 9/11 attacks, being from a different time period. But this enraged him. Not only was Samantha slowly attempting to tear the country apart, city by city, landmark by landmark, but she'd done it on the most specific day she could.

 _ **11/5**_.

That brat had been planning this. This… this whole time, she'd been….. she had _known_ of these prior attacks. She'd pinpointed the date _perfectly_. One day to make an appearance, and then the next was her biggest accomplishments.

 _One. One. Five._

She'd made it her _point_ , her _goal_. She had one sick mind.

Jakob, at the front of the bus, dropped the radio and thought the same. He had no words. Just restrained anger.

" _ **Let it all out, Jake-"**_

Jakob removed his gun from his holster and subtly positioned the barrel to face his chest.

" _Shut up before I off both of us, Max."_

Max became silent.

Peter, still inside, listened intently to the reports, but ultimately was working on opening the jetway. Once he did, he re-contacted the bus.

"Uh, guys… I understand if this is hard to take in, but….. we gotta go. _Now_ ," Peter said cautiously.

"He's….. he's right," Jakob said, catching everybody by surprise. "We gotta move."

They did, ignoring the groaning officers on the floor and making their way to the plane's jetway. Peter was already snug in the cockpit, and Richtofen volunteered to co-pilot, having prior experience with planes.

As everyone grabbed a seat and buckled up, Richtofen could only imagine what Samantha had in store for them next. He adjusted the headset.

" _Und so, beginnt der Reise..."_

 **Howdy, guys!**

 **Okay, so….. a few things. Firstly, I posted that preview, Pinnacle of Technology, nearly three weeks ago, and it's barely been noticed. Y u do dis 2 me?**

 **Nah, kidding. But it does sorta confuse me. I came back and saw that after two weeks, no reviews. That first chapter is something I put A LOT into. But, hey. It's fine, you all have your own opinions, and I'm lucky that you read my stories in the first place ;P. I'm not gonna pressure ya'll into reviewing like I did** _ **Nightmare**_ **. But at least know it's there.**

 **Next thing: I used Google translate for the German used in this chapter, so I apologize for any inaccuracy (they're in the order they appeared):**

 **1\. "No! Quit treating me like your son!"**

 **2\. "But I'm so proud of you! You have broken free and now you're a sadist!"**

 **3\. "You are insane."**

 **4\. "I know. I thought we established that in the theater? You also know that I'm right. You even have a split personality! It's PERFECT!"**

 **5\. "Jesus Christ, Richtofen." (That one's pretty obvious)**

 **6\. "YES! You will know your destiny! We were meant to be together forever as a mentor and protégé! HAHAHAHAHA!"**

 **7\. "And so, the journey begins..."**

 **That's all. :P**


	17. Airline 935

_18 missed calls._

Jakob turned off his phone with a frustrated sigh. He loved his parents dearly, but he meant it when he said he wasn't coming back, at least not until the job was finished.

He leaned back in the cushioned seat and looked around.

It was still hard to believe. This was the type of thing people like him could only _dream_ about. He tried to enjoy every moment, but other factors were ruining it.

Mainly, the attacks on major areas. He was thankful that Samantha hadn't attacked anywhere near them so far.

" _ **Nothing's stopping her. What's that brat up to?"**_

" _She's waiting. She'll strike only when the time is right."_

" _ **You think we'll be able to stop her then? Please."**_

" _We're not even in D.C. yet, Max."_

" _ **It's a wonder how you're assuming we'll even make it off of this plane alive."**_

" _She said she was hunting Richtofen, but I think she'll wait until the world understands the 'messages' she's causing. She's striking fear in their hearts."_

" _ **While we should be striking a knife through her heart."**_

"Kid?"

The sudden questioning word shook Jakob from his mental conversation. Dempsey had been sitting next to him, and was speaking to him.

"Huh?" Jakob asked. "Everything okay, Dempsey?"

"Yeah," Dempsey confirmed. "You just looked concentrated on something, but you were staring into space. Reminds me eerily of when Richtofen is thinking. Except you lack the insane smile."

"Oh. I was… 'talking' to Max," Jakob explained.

"Mental conversations, eh?"

"I guess you could say that."

"What's he saying?"

Jakob sighed. "The same things he's always said. Except now he wants to stab Sam in the heart."

"Jeez. What's he so sadistic for, anyway?" Dempsey said.

"I told you those experimental meds split my personality, right? Max is _literally_ all of my anger and darkest thoughts," Jakob explained.

The plane hit turbulence, as if on cue.

"Whoopsies! Sorry for zhe turbulence, everyone! Haha, NOT!" Richtofen's voice came over the comm. It reminded Jakob of Richtofen's quotes as the Demonic Announcer.

Jakob could hear snickers throughout the plane. Dempsey also chuckled, but became serious again.

"Has he… ever taken control?" Dempsey asked gently.

"Fully? Heck no. I'm too strong for that. But he did catch me by surprise during the thing at the gas station. It wasn't until I gathered my thoughts that I realized he was there. He was silent the whole time," Jakob said.

Dempsey simply nodded as the plane hit more turbulence. Several people groaned.

"Oh, man up, you whimpering BABIES!" Richtofen sounded over the comm again.

"Stop, Doctor," Peter's voice came over.

"Nein! I vill not stop! Zhey will understand I care not for zheir comfort. I. AM. APATHY!"

"…"

"…"

"You just broadcasted that over the entire goddamn plane."

"HAHAHAHAHA! I know."

Then the comm cut out.

Jakob shook his head. "There's no way we can return to a serious conversation after that. Let's move on to something a bit lighter, eh?"

Dempsey considered this. Then he nodded. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Well, what do you think we should do? What will happen?" Jakob specified.

"Honestly? Think that brat's gonna keep attacking everywhere. America, Russia, Germany, Japan. She'll target our homelands to anger us. Make us sloppy. Then she'll strike once we're out of focus."

Jakob's eyes widened. "Didn't think you were one to figure something like that out."

Dempsey looked amused. "'Cause I'm a jarhead?"

"No, no! Just… I figured Richtofen would've had a hypothesis like that. I don't doubt your intelligence. Your ego is just a bit inflated."

"What'd you expect? Treyarch went for stereotypes," Dempsey said, laughing.

Jakob smiled. He'd almost forgotten that Dempsey knew about their situation. The fact that they were game characters. It was _still_ amusing.

"Anyways, what's your plan for when we get to D.C.? According to the two up front, we just passed the border of Virginia and North Carolina."

Jakob sat up a bit. "Really? That fast?"

"Yeah. It's not that long of a flight. Only problem might be airspace. The two airports are shut down, after all," Dempsey replied.

Jakob nodded, and the two patriots left it at that.

Problems did arise in the cockpit, however.

" _Unidentified aircraft. This is the FAA. This airspace is off-limits. Turn back. We do have authorization to shoot you down."_

Peter glanced over to Richtofen. "Government."

"We need to make contact with the President as soon as possible. The attacks have worsened and we need to coordinate," Peter spoke.

" _State your business and identity."_

"Doctor Peter McCain. OSS agent."

" _The OSS has been disavowed for over 70 years. You are at high risk of being shot down."_

"We are in no position to argue with you, nor can we land anywhere without failure. But please, we have urgent business."

" _You have no proof you don't have infected aboard your aircraft, Doctor McCain."_

"If we did, we'd hardly be able to fly this without crashing already."

" _Valid point. You still have no authorization in this airspace. Turn back now."_

"I don't zhink so, sir."

" _Who is this?"_

"Zhis is Major General Doctor Edward Richtofen. I am vith over twenty other passengers who have prior experience vith zhis dilemma. It would be vise of you to comply."

" _As Doctor McCain said, you are in no position to argue, General."_

"Zhat may be true, but you are in no position to refuse possible help. I assume you have seen zhe news? Zhe young man in zhe reports is aboard vith us."

" _That juvenile in question is wanted by the police for the gas station incident. You hardly have any leverage in this negotiation."_

"I don't need leverage. All I need is zhe knowledge zhat you need help, and we have zhat help. Und I assure you, zhat juvenile, Jakob James, has first-hand knowledge on vhy zhis all is happening."

" _How would this information help us?"_

"Did I mention ve have John F. Kennedy aboard?"

" _Highly unlikely, General. President Kennedy has been dead for several years."_

"Und yours vill be dead soon as vell. Ve need clearance to land if you want to survive."

" _This is not within my control any longer, General. You may consult one of my superiors, but there is a high chance you will be shot down within the hour."_

"Unless your superior is zhe Secretary of Defense, I highly advise zhat you don't bother."

There was a silence.

" _My superior has given me permission to broadcast this communication over to the Pentagon."_

"Do whatever you have to do," Peter said.

" _You are now live at the Pentagon, Doctor McCain and Doctor Richtofen."_

/

The exchange as soon as President Obama reached the Pentagon was short and emotional, and everyone had hardly enough time to recover before they received a request to communicate with the FAA immediately.

" _There is an unauthorized aircraft in our airspace, Mr. President. The pilots requested an audience with you. One of them claims to be an agent of the OSS."_

"I thought the OSS ceased operation at the end of World War II."

" _That is affirmative, Mr. President. However, a subordinate has been conversing with the aircraft and they will be shot down if they do not turn back, or if you say otherwise. They also requested to land."_

"What assurance do we have that these people are sincere? What if they have infected aboard?" the Secretary of Defense questioned.

" _None, Mr. Secretary."_

The President pondered for a moment. "You said the aircraft had two pilots? What were their names?"

" _Doctor Peter McCain. He claimed to be an agent of the OSS. The other was Doctor Edward Richtofen. He claimed to be a Major General. With his accent and name we can only assume he's German."_

Moors and the Secretary of Defense froze at the name.

"You said _Richtofen_ , correct?" Moors butt in.

" _Um….. yes. Are you familiar with that name?"_

"All too familiar," Moors said. He turned to the President. "I advise you let them land."

"Absolutely not! That man is dangerous!" the Secretary of Defense butt in. "What do _you_ even know about him?!"

"I know enough to know that he can help figure out what is going on," Moors said as respectfully as possible.

The President looked at Moors. "Why do you think it would be best to let the Doctor land?"

"He knows more about this then we do, most likely. He can _help_ us," Moors explained.

"While that may be true, do you realize what he _is_?" the Secretary of Defense said.

The President raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"He's a _Nazi_ ," the SecDef explained. "I don't even know how he's _alive_. He should be arrested for crimes against humanity!"

The President looked at Moors questioningly. "Is this true?"

Moors nodded, acting as if that information were unimportant. "Are you familiar with the Nazi experiments in World War II? Exactly, you're not. _He_ is. He can help. Even if he is twisted."

The President massaged is temples as he thought.

" _Mr. President, sir?"_

"Hm?"

" _They also mentioned…. related cargo."_

"Cargo? You mean passengers?"

" _Yes. They have possession of the juvenile responsible for the gas station stand-off that happened not too long ago. They also mentioned President Kennedy being aboard."_

"President Kennedy? Impossible!" the SecDef exclaimed.

"We were busy trying to escape the White House, so we're not familiar," Smith explained.

The President nodded. "Please inform us."

"I think it'd be better if we put it on the screen, Mr. President," a worker across the room suggested.

"Very well."

The worker nodded and put the report, as well as the attacks, on-screen as Lieutenant Sparta looked over his shoulder.

"Jakob James. Interesting. What leverage do they possess by having him?" Sparta questioned.

" _None, sir. We've informed them that he would be detained upon landing."_

"Don't. He may be useful as well," the President ordered.

" _Are you certain, Mr. President?"_

"Yes."

There was a submissive sigh.

" _Very well. Would you like them to land?"_

"Yes. And put them on the line as well," the President added.

" _Yes… Mr. President."_

Silence.

" _Hello? HELLO? Is zhis zhe Pentagon? Zhis is Zhe Doctor speaking."_

"Yes. Identify yourself," the President ordered, slightly put off by the insane doctor's tone.

" _Ah, vunderbar. Very vell. I am Major General Doctor Edward Richtofen. I'm sure you've heard of me in zhe reports? Specifically zhe one Samantha hijacked."_

"Yes, I am. What relation do you have to her?"

" _I….. may have attempted to kill her father. But I did not expect repercussions such as zhis!"_

"Even so, why?"

" _Vhy? VHY? Doctor Maxis lost his vay, and he lost his care and dedication to improving zhe human condition! Besides, schizophrenia is also a factor."_

" _Okay, okay. Get off the comm, Doctor."_

"Who is this?" the President questioned.

" _Doctor Peter McCain, Mr. President, sir. Agent of the OSS. I apologize for my accomplice's… less than formal behavior."_

They heard German cursing on the other line.

"Doctor McCain? Do you realize that the OSS has-"

" _Yes, yes I am. I've been told several times. My apologies if I'm being too brash. I'd like to inform you, however, that I'm not from this time. Neither is Doctor Richtofen, or some of the other people aboard this aircraft. Not from the same universe either."_

"With a zombie Hitler, I can hardly say I can't accept this as true, either," the President concluded.

" _Ah yes, zhe Hitler problem. I shall have you know zhat ve know about as much about zhat as you do. Ve only know of Samantha's plan. Ve are from her same universe. Zhe universe of….. vat was it?"_

" _I believe it was…. 'Call of Duty'?"_

" _Ah, yes. Danke, Peter. Anyvay, it seems zhat universe has converged vith zhis one….. 'Reality'. Zhe zombies have also broken zhrough. I cannot tell you much over zhis comm, however, as I don't believe it is secure enough."_

"I assure you that this is as secure as it gets, Doctor Richtofen," the SecDef said.

" _I sense bitterness in your voice, Mr. Secretary. I sincerely hope ve do not have a PROBLEM?"_

The SecDef shivered at the sudden hostility. "H-how did you….."

" _Zhat is not important, Mr. Secretary. Other zhan zhe fact I've heard your voice on zhe television. I advise zhat we continue zhis conversation on ground. Zhese comms can easily be accessed by zhat brat. The information I am giving you would get us all killed were I to reveal it to you back in my time. Danke und goodbye!"_

" _I apologize, Mr. Secretary. He's not exactly in good mental health."_

The comms abruptly shut off.

/

"That could have gone better," Peter said, sighing as the plane descended.

"Normally, I vould disagree and say zhat vent _splendidly_. However, ve are in no position to joke about zhis."

"Something is obviously bothering you," Peter said.

Richtofen rose an eyebrow. "Curious. I vas not able to throw you off. How did you read me so easily, Peter?"

"You're not as mystifying as you'd like to be, Doctor. You've been different from the doctor I once knew. You seem to have more emotion," Peter explained, activating the landing gears.

Richtofen hummed thoughtfully. "I underestimated you, Peter. The only thing I can flaw you in now is your execution in infiltrating Group 935. We'd figured you out a few weeks before the Asylum was overrun. We just had to let you and Yena play your little game."

"I knew that. That's the reason I bailed when I did," Peter said nonchalantly. Then he rose an eyebrow. "You doubted my intellect?"

"Highly. I saw only my closest accomplices, Maxis included, on the same level of intellect as I. I had every doubt in you, to be completely honest. But after finding out you vere vith zhe OSS, it amazed me. Your supposed death in my timeline vas rather humorous, however."

Peter huffed. "Yes, the 'hanging man in the swamp', as it were."

Richtofen cackled. "Exactly!"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Anyway, you never told me what was bothering you."

Richtofen's insane smile was replaced with a frown immediately.

"Zhat Secretary….. his tone vas hostile. It vas like he already knew me. Like he knew my secrets. Everyzhing. Somezhing isn't right."

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the FAA.

" _Doctor McCain, you are clear for landing."_

"Thank you. We also have several weapons aboard, if you need to confiscate or check them."

From the back of the plane, he heard Misty yell out: "Screw that, Petey!"

Peter chose to ignore this as he was meant with a response.

" _Noted. We will send a team inside to search you. DO NOT exit the plane. And don't move unless told to."_

"Understood," Peter said.

And so the aforementioned team boarded the aircraft, only having intense suspicion of the mobsters and Richtofen (for various reasons). Once they were cleared, they were off.

When they arrived at the Pentagon, things had cleared up…. more or less. Choppers weren't swarming the sky and spotlights weren't all over the place. The facility was still, however, at DEFCON 1.

As they entered, they were met with several confused looks, and in Richtofen's case, hard glares. Richtofen glared right back, silencing the unspoken criticism.

JFK and his gang were the ones receiving most of the stairs. After all, he, Nixon, and McNamara would supposedly dead.

Castro being there didn't help much.

Everyone had one way or another split off into their own groups as they walked towards an elevator.

A guard stopped them.

"The President only wants to see Dr. Richtofen, Jakob, and Dr. McCain."

JFK caught wind of this and stepped in front of the guard.

"I hardly think that only seeing them is necessary. I request to be included as well."

The guard's expression had gone from stoic to scared as he nodded. He reached for his radio, but his hand was caught by Richtofen.

"I'd like the rest of mein own group to be included as vell, along vith zhe rest of President Kennedy's."

Richtofen glanced at JFK, who was giving him a bewildered, but thankful expression. The two nodded without speaking a word as the guard rambled into the radio.

They were ushered into the elevator as the rest of the large group remained outside.

Donevin and Gavin, who had been right behind Richtofen's group were disappointed that they hadn't been able join them, but sat down in the seating area anyway.

Jakob could just make out their voices as the elevator began closing.

"You'd think I would've been able to pass as an adult."

"Way to make fun of short people, Gavin. Shut up."

Jakob simply shook his head as the elevator descended.

"This is different," Kennedy suddenly said.

"In what way?" Jakob questioned.

"Zombies aren't here. And this elevator is different as well. It was smaller before."

Jakob hummed in thought.

"All in all, I don't see this reality as being any better. We're doomed either way, unless we fight," Kennedy continued.

The elevator opened, and the group was meant with a War Room. It had various technology in it, but wasn't able to be admired as they were hastily ushered into a sanctum.

Their guide abandoned them as they were left at entrance.

Richtofen took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Every head snapped in his direction, the first being the SecDef, and the President himself.

Everyone else filed in.

"Doctor Richtofen, it's…. a pleasure," the President said hesitantly, barely shaking Richtofen's hand.

"Zhe pleasure is mine, Mr. President. I believe ve have many zhings to discuss."

The President nodded, and looked at Jakob. He shook his hand, raising an eyebrow. "You have quite the hit on you, Mr. James."

"Yes, I've seen the news Mr. President."

"Do you mind telling me what happened?"

"Yes, I do mind, sir."

The President threw an uncomfortable glance away, spotting Kennedy approaching.

"U-uh…. greetings, Mr. President," he said awkwardly as he shook the former President's hand.

Kennedy nodded.

The President took a seat, and gestured for everyone else to do the same. He took a deep breath.

"Now, I only recall calling three people here. Who, may I ask, are your friends?" he said respectfully.

"You already know the four in the corner, I assume," Jakob said, pointing to Kennedy's group. "But the other three are in close association with Doctor Richtofen."

The President raised a brow, but looked to Dempsey. Dempsey quickly introduced himself, as well as Takeo, and Nikolai (who was surprisingly not drunk).

"Now… you seem aware of the attacks on America. Can you elaborate, how did this 'Samantha' escape a supposedly virtual world?"

Richtofen sighed and gestured to Jakob. "He is partially zhe reason. But, it is in no vay his fault. You see, ve met zhis boy in an abandoned theater, in zhe 'game'. Samantha apparently had her eye on him, and extracted some of his blood."

"And coincidentally, my blood was the only way out of the game," Jakob added. "She must have planned to use it to escape, and ripped across dimensions to get to where she wanted."

The President leaned back in his chair in thought.

"So you say your blood provided a gateway from the virtual world to reality?" he asked.

"Correct, Mr. President," Jakob said.

"How exactly did you enter the game?"

Jakob huffed in thought. "There was a storm that night near my house. Something hit the satellite dish. I don't know much more. The next thing I knew, I woke up with a zombie in my face."

"And we found him just in time," Dempsey said.

The President nodded in understanding.

"If I may, Mr. President?" Peter asked.

"Yes, Doctor McCain?"

"I see Samantha's attacks as not just destruction, but a fear tactic," Peter said.

The President gestured for him to continue.

"These attacks on major locations are only a fraction of what she can do. The power of Element 115 is devastating when in the wrong hands," Peter said.

" _THE POWER! THE POWER!"_

"Even if she zhinks she can control it, it corrupts to no end," Richtofen added.

" _I VILL CONTROL THEM ALL! I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL!"_

"Und Samantha viewed zhis all as a mere game."

" _BUT NOT BEFORE WE CONTINUE ZHE GAME!"_

"But zhe power she has comes from her angered soul. Her damage on zhis world, zhis universe, vill continue."

Richtofen put his elbows on the table as his head throbbed with words of another time. He tried to continue his speech.

"Und she's making it her mission to use her minions to wreak havoc across zhe vorld, zhe entire universe. It's only America now, but she's targeting zhe most prominent locations. Soon she'll grow tired of zhis country and move on to zhe next."

The President's fear was evident in his eyes as he contemplated what was being said to him.

"As I said, Samantha has been attacking major locations. Und if she has knowledge of zhese places, she must have knowledge of vhere zhey are. Vhich is vhy Germany vould be her prime target."

The President raised a brow. "How so?"

"Her homeland vould be zhe best place to start vengeance, but she started here. I could only imagine she's saving zhe best for last. She's going to go back to vhere it all started."

"Little girl will have opposite of good if she touches the Motherland," Nikolai said darkly, swigging some vodka.

"Where would that be?" the President questioned Richtofen.

"Breslau, Germany. If vat Jakob has told me in spare time is correct, Nazi experiments similar to Group 935's occurred at the end of World War II. Samantha vill stop at nozhing to get to vatever zhe Axis Powers didn't have zhe chance to unleash. She is already bringing creatures not of zhis world here."

"How does this help us? We aren't in the position to send soldiers to guard Germany."

"It doesn't help you in zhe slightest. It helps me. I vant access to your archives."

The SecDef turned his head to look at Richtofen incredulously. "What?"

"You heard me."

"What makes you think we would allow you access to such important files if you've provided nothing more than a run-down of what we already have seen?"

"I'd advise zhat you vatch your tone, Secretary. My patience vith you is already wavering," Richtofen said darkly, causing the SecDef to shrink back. Richtofen turned to the President. "I know you have zhe experiments on file. If anyone can figure out vat she has planned, it's me. I vorked vith Element 115 alongside my superior, Doctor Ludvig Maxis. We were able to do great zhings, for it had great power. Sometime in zhe Second World War, Hitler contacted us, vanting a zombie army. Anozher outbreak is what ve vere trying to _stop_.I created a veapon, actually, and ve planned to mass-produce it. Unfortunately, Maxis had ozher ideas. And so, I pushed him and his brat into a teleporter. But alas, he did not suffer such a fate, and his brat got in control of zhe undead masses."

Richtofen leaned back and raised a brow.

"Does zhat answer your questions?"

The President stared at Richtofen for a long time. Then he spoke.

"You will be under maximum surveillance the entire way. ONLY touch files relating to World War II."

Richtofen nodded in satisfaction.

"Now, if what you say is true, Doctor, we must prepare. Do you have any idea where she may attack next?"

"As I said, Germany might be her last, but if you have any ozher landmarks or capitals, she will destroy zhem. I advise you contact your best generals and commanders for all of your armed forces, and tell zhem to stop at nozhing to defend vat's left. Zhe Washington Monument is already at high risk, as is zhis very building. Have zhe Navy guard zhe coast. Air Force should patrol all airspaces and have a secure location to report to, for refueling and such."

" _ **Nobody passes the borders alive."**_

The President nodded.

"You have a Coast Guard, correct? You vould be best prepared if you integrate zhem vith zhe Navy's posts. The Marines and Army should be stationed all around zhe country, in sensible places, of course. Preferably zhe most populated."

" _ **Protect my parents."**_

"What about Special Forces?"

Richtofen leaned forward. "If you have any value of your mortal life, you'll keep any Special Forces available to you very, _very_ close."

"Any Frogmen or Raiders should be by you at all times. Commandos in the best jets you have, patrolling the skies your immediate area. And Rangers stay at the front lines. Have any Green Berets protect all confidential information, and if need be, infiltrate where Samantha may set up," Kennedy inputted.

"Frogmen?" the President questioned.

"It's what the SEALs were called, sir," the SecDef said.

"And if you have any Delta Force, you keep them as close to your family as possible," Jakob added.

" _ **Tell him to send some soldiers down south."**_

The President nodded solemnly.

"Our plan is to track her as best we can and recover any information from vatever lies in her vake. But as I said, I need to see files."

The President nodded. "Go now."

Richtofen nodded as three armed escorts guided him.

"Sir," Jakob started.

The President raised a brow.

"If you can….. please send some soldiers to watch over my parents?"

The President contemplated this, before nodding. "When we find your address, we'll send them down."

"Thank you."

"Gentleman, we are at full lockdown. What we do here may determine what happens to the rest of the world," the President stated as the Doctor left the room.

Everyone nodded. The President stood up.

"And so, I can only hope for my family and nation that you are able to defeat that girl. We will provide you with whatever resources you need. Stay here as long as you need to in order to coordinate."

"We could use some soldiers," Dempsey suggested.

"Of course, Corporal. I think I have just the two," the President said. He looked to the SecDef. "Get Sparta and Moors."

The SecDef nodded, leaving and returning shortly after with the two soldiers in question.

Moors seemed happy to introduce him and Sparta. A bit too happy, considering the circumstances.

"I'm Sergeant Moors. This is Sparta."

" _ **You're joking."**_

Jakob barely covered up a laugh as Sparta rolled his eyes.

"You _had_ to introduce us like that?"

"Yep," Moors replied to the higher-ranking soldier.

The next hour was spent coordinating with the two soldiers. They seemed to follow along with the plan well enough.

/

Several stories down, Richtofen was escorted to a dusty room filled with files dating back to World War I.

He entered the room with guns trained on him, and kneeled in front of the files. He shuffled through them. What he saw would have made any other man of his scientific involvement stop cold.

" _Early Experiments with 115"_

But he just shrugged it off and picked it up.

There were several dossiers inside, but he didn't look at them.

Richtofen put the folder to the side and retrieved two more about Germany's downfall, as well as Germany's firearms and artillery.

Nothing he didn't already know. Still, it could prove useful.

He continued sifting through the files, but found nothing.

Not that he would have, anyway, as an enormous explosion shook the whole Pentagon.

/

They felt it from topside, as well. It was like a combination of fireworks and thunder. It was deafening, and it was close.

Sparta reached for the remote and turned on the TV. What they saw could only be described as apocalyptic.

On the screen was the Washington Monument, slowly collapsing. There was a giant chunk out of it, as if there was an explosion from the inside.

The reporter at the scene was rambling something about it, but nobody paid attention. They could only take in what was happening as the Monument fell into the water.

The screen fizzled as a view of the Lincoln Memorial also came into view. Its head was decapitated, sitting in the stone president's lap. The rest of the building was completely demolished.

Finally, the screen fizzled again, only for them to see a helicopter's view of the Pentagon, with a chunk out of the top.

Everything was on fire, but the sanctum was safe from harm.

Several soldiers and agents were fighting off zombies with heavy guns, and Jakob could barely make out the rest of his big group filing into elevators to make it down to the sanctum.

Jakob panicked as he heard a voice in his head.

Feminine. Familiar.

Fatal.

" _Remember, remember, the Fifth of November."_


	18. Remember, Remember, the 5th of November

_Location: London, England_

 _Palace of Westminster_

 _Year: 2015_

Ah, London.

Home of Big Ben and the Eiffel Tower. So nice.

What a great place to sit back, have a nice cup of tea, and admire the destruction of your world as you know it.

Oh, did I skip to the last part by mistake?

 **Heh, oops.**

But that's exactly what Captain Dominic Fawkes was doing. He _had_ been sitting back, and he _had_ been enjoying a nice cup of tea.

And then _this_ happened.

He leaned on the edge of the balcony in grief as the Palace of Westminster's roof caved in, killing the people inside.

The explosions had happened an hour ago. By the time he'd heard them, it was too late. Big Ben had collapsed almost immediately, but the Eiffel Tower still stood, untouched.

So here he stood as Parliament collapsed before him. His subordinates, the ones he'd deeply cared for had been inside, trying to escort the important people out.

He had been on his way as well, but was redirected by a detour in the road. Another reason to hate those things.

So he'd taken drastic measures and gotten to a building with a balcony. Why "drastic"?

His last resort had been to jump.

A tear ran down his cheek as his radio crackled.

" _We have hostiles approaching Buckingham Palace!"_

A BvS 10 Viking rolled down the street, harboring several Royal Marines as it sped toward Buckingham Palace.

He took off the radio and threw it to the ground. He'd lost ALL of his men. They were ALL dead. And he blamed himself.

The worst part was the last thing that was broadcasted.

" _Sir? There's… gunpowder here. What do we-"_

Dominic had heard the explosion on the radio right before it cut out, and from the Palace.

" _Are you familiar with the Gunpowder Treason Plot, Dominic?"_

Dominic looked up sharply at the feminine voice, raising his L85A2 assault rifle. His hand gripped the L123A3 grenade launcher slung under the barrel.

" _Oh, come now. I'm sure you've heard of it."_

He turned around again. Nothing.

" _Still nothing? Shame. After all…."_

Dominic felt a painful pang in his chest as he collapsed. The world was going black as he saw a pair of pale feet on the ground in front of him.

"… _.what is the Gunpowder Treason Plot without your name to fit it?"_

/

 _Location: Volgograd, Russia_

 _Year: 2015_

The attack had happened faster than they could process it.

It was a normal day at the bar where they hung out. After all, off-duty soldiers drink for free.

Okay, maybe not. But still, the respect was appreciated.

"Please, comrade! You couldn't _possibly_ beat me in drinking contest!" one of the soldiers, drunk off his ass, said. "Lev is drinking _master_!"

"Pfft. You know who could _really_ drink? Pavlov. I wish he didn't have to leave," the soldier across from him said. "He was tough son of-"

"LET US DRINK IN VIKTOR'S MEMORY!" Lev interrupted, raising a glass of vodka.

"Hoorah!" the rest of the bar, including the bartender jeered.

 _SLAM!_

The door slammed open louder than anyone had heard it slam before. In the doorway stood a haggard man in a ripped Russian uniform. His skin had a sickly pale color, and his eyes were bright yellow.

Other than that, he seemed normal.

The man staggered inside, the door somehow slamming behind him. He sat on a barstool and put his elbows on the counter. He looked like he'd just crawled out of a grave.

"One shot of vodka," the man said hoarsely.

The bartender nodded, retrieving a shot and pouring the glass. The man downed it immediately and put it back out in front of him.

"More," he ordered in a clearer voice.

The bartender raised an eyebrow but did so anyway. Again, the man downed the drink.

"One more."

He downed the last one and slumped on the bar counter. The bartender picked up the empty vodka bottle and began wiping it, raising an eyebrow.

The man peeked from his hat.

"I don't have any money."

The bartender looked slightly angered by the response.

Then Lev stepped in. Literally.

"I will pay! Yuri, don't you see this man is disheveled? I've come in worse condition and you give me drink for free!" he bellowed to the bartender.

Yuri's glare grew soft. "Lev-"

"No excuses, comrade! Give this man another drink, on my tab!"

Yuri shook his head, giving the man another shot and walking away to tend to his own business.

"Thanks," the man said quietly.

"It was not a problem! What is your name, comrade?" Lev asked hardily, patting him on the back.

The man took a sip and wiped his mouth. He looked at Lev. Lev noticed his eyes were more yellow. Glowing, even.

"Yakov," he said. "Yakov Pavlov."

Lev didn't know what to say as Yakov returned to his drink.

And just like that, the bar exploded in a fiery blaze.

Yakov took another sip of his drink as everyone else burned around him. He wanted to help, he really did. But unfortunately, they were dead as soon as the explosion happened.

Him? He was fine. Being reanimated by a little girl with evil intentions did that.

But like hell was he going to obey her.

He put down the shot glass and left, taking the PPSh-41 he had propped outside the building, and making sure he still had his Tokarev TT-33.

He then continued through the streets of what was once Stalingrad.

" _I resurrected you. YOU WILL OBEY ME!"_

Yakov cocked his TT-33 and proceeded to find his house.

"нет."

/

 _Location: Berlin, Germany_

 _Year: 2015_

"Scheiße!"

Staff Sergeant Alyce Tenebaum heaved her twin sister from harm's way as foreign gunfire ripped through the streets.

Both sisters slammed their backs against the brick wall and panted heavily.

"Watch your damn back, Agatha!"

"Fuck off! I was trying to get a view of the enemy!"

There was a silence between the two as gunfire continued to go off.

"But, thank you."

Alyce could barely reciprocate the gesture before a bullet slammed into her sister's ribcage from across the small road.

She screamed as Agatha began slowly sliding down the wall in shock, clutching her wound. Her eyes looked empty already.

Alyce's eyes snapped to the attacker, who was currently reloading his pistol. Her hand flew to her own as she advanced and fired several shots at him, each hitting right on target.

By the time she had reached the Nazi, he was barely alive. And he didn't seem ready to talk either.

That was fine. She didn't plan on questioning him.

She pulled out her knife and grabbed the Nazi by the throat, staring into his glowing yellow eyes before stabbing him repeatedly.

Over, and over… and over.

Within seconds, the Nazi zombie was reduced to ribbons. Alyce huffed in dark satisfaction as she pulled out her pistol once again and fired into the zombie's mouth.

She looked back at her fallen sister, immediately rushing to her aid with medical supplies ready.

Agatha had been applying pressure to the wound and was breathing erratically. Blood was running down her chin.

"Nein, Schwester. Beharren," she encouraged. Agatha's breathing sped up as she met her sister's eyes.

Alyce managed a smile. "Mutter wäre stolz."

She didn't even get a chance to apply bandages or alcohol before they were bombarded by nearby gunfire once more.

She grabbed her sister bridal style and ran as fast as she could. Around corners, across roads.

She finally heard a voice from nearby.

"Frau!"

She turned to see a friendly soldier peeking out of a manhole. He was frantically gesturing for her to get inside.

"You must hurry! Get your sister in here!"

Little did she know her sister had died in her arms.

She let her sister into the soldier's arms as she climbed down the manhole herself.

Before descending, she cast a final glance across the Spree.

Just in time to see a Nazi flag going up atop the Reichstag.

/

 _Location: International Waters_

 _USS Harry S. Truman_

 _Year: 2015_

" _Man creates real life time machine."_

Scroll.

" _Time machine creates real man."_

The fuck? Scroll.

" _Experiments go wrong and-"_

"I'll take that."

The phone was snatched from Petty Officer Drew Weber's hands.

"Fuuuuuuuck!" Weber groaned, slumping in his seat.

His superior looked down on him in disappointment. "I thought you would've known better, Weber." He looked at the screen. "For God's sake, you're still looking at these fake-ass articles?"

Weber half-heartedly narrowed his eyes at Chief Hardy, who was grasping his Android in one hand, with his other hand on his hip.

"Ughhhhh. I get bored!" Weber said indignantly.

"This course is _required_ , Weber. Sexual harassment is important to avoid and prevent in the Navy. Pay attention."

"But we take this class every _year_. Plus, we're a month late," Weber complained.

A fellow SEAL immaturely cackled behind him.

Weber turned around and flashed a middle finger behind him very indiscreetly. He felt a reassuring pat on his shoulder.

"Pay attention," Chief Hardy repeated.

Weber groaned as Hardy returned to the front of the classroom.

"Keep this behavior up and you'll get an appointment with Captain Moss, Weber."

"You're in trouble, Blueberry," the SEAL from before whispered behind him.

Weber turned around and jokingly smacked him across the face.

From the front of the room, Chief Hardy's radio crackled.

" _Supplies to Chief Hardy."_

"This is Chief Hardy."

" _Send Petty Officer Weber to Supplies to receive his new uniform."_

"Roger."

Chief Hardy put up his radio and gestured to for Weber to leave.

"Get the fuck outta here," he said playfully.

Weber nodded. "Can I have my phone back?"

"If you can catch it."

"Fuck off, Chief," Weber replied.

Even so, Hardy tossed the phone at him, which Weber caught. Barely.

"I hate all of you," Weber announced with a wave of his phone behind him as he passed through the doorway.

"You need a battle buddy, Blueberry!"

"Fuck you, Simmons," Weber called back to the SEAL now following him.

He walked through the corridor to supplies with Simmons nearby, where the Supplies Officer was waiting.

"Good morning, sir," Weber greeted.

"Good morning," the officer said pleasantly, looking Weber up and down. "You still have your NWU's, huh? Don't worry. You'll be like the rest of 'em with your new Type III's. Try these on for size-"

An explosion rocked the ship.

"Aw, hell."

…

"What the hell was that?" Captain Moss asked his Executive Officer.

"We're getting reports of attacks on the US, sir. It seems we're being targeted as well."

Another explosion sounded.

"Sir! The main hull has been severely damaged!" a subordinate called out.

"What the hell is hitting us?!"

"We don't know, sir!"

A nearby radio crackled.

" _Hostiles on the flight deck! Engaging!"_

"What's going on?!" the Executive Officer asked.

The only answer was gunfire as a little girl's giggle came through.

"That's creepy as fuck," the worker by the radio remarked.

With that, the doors burst open as two dead Marines collapsed into the room.

Four Nazis entered, guns trained on the Captain and his personnel.

"Freeze, schweinehund," a Lieutenant zombie commanded.

Everyone in the room was executed except for Captain Moss within seconds as short bursts of fire sounded through the room.

"You bastards won't get away with this."

"Silence!" the Lieutenant commanded, swinging his STG at the Captain.

Instead of a wet thud, the STG was caught, and instead trained on the subordinate zombies as the Lieutenant was put into a headlock.

"You bastards want to take down this ship? You're coming with me," Captain Moss stated simply.

"Feuer! Feuer! Shoot, you idiots!" the Lieutenant commanded through choked gasps.

The soldiers hesitated, and the Lieutenant finally pulled out a Stielhandgranate, priming it and raising it.

Captain Moss saw it coming, pushing the now living time bomb zombie back to the crowd with his foot. He hopped behind the control panel as the explosion took out the rest of them.

"Impressive."

Moss froze. He dared to look above him.

Samantha Maxis looked back down at him from the other side of the panel.

"A Captain determined to go down with his ship. I would need that in my army," she mused.

"Fuck. You."

Samantha gave a fake sigh of disappointment.

"What a shame. I was hoping I wouldn't have to kill anyone today."

She raised her hand in front of her, and an electrical pulse formed in front of Moss. Soon a hellhound materialized.

"Fuck….."

"Fetch me his soul, Fluffy."

She turned around and descended the bridge stairs as Moss was mauled. Muffled screams came from behind her and she chuckled.

"Good boy."

…

"Shit. Shit. Shit," Simmons cursed.

"We're under attack," the Supplies Officer repeated.

"What the hell do we do?" Weber questioned.

"The only thing we can do. We gotta blow these bastards-"

Simmons was shot before he could finish his sentence.

For a split second, Weber considered laughing at the perfectly time interruption of the usually perverted-humored SEAL's speech.

But alas the was a split second. The other half was Weber shooting the two Nazis in the doorway with his M16. The Supplies Officer pulled out his M9.

"Follow me, sir," Weber instructed the officer. He received a nod in response as they continued to the deck uninterrupted.

Most of the carrier was destroyed, and debris was not uncommon as they traversed the ship.

Unfortunately, the officer soon met his demise after another explosion sounded off nearby, causing a large object to fall and crush him.

"Fuck!" Weber cursed, breaking into a full sprint to the deck.

A large, but passable gap was near the edge of the ship, and Weber was about to jump it when gunfire ripped through the air. Samantha appeared as

"Down, American!"

Weber responded with gunfire of his own and jumped the gap.

Just in time for another explosion.

Weber was sent flying into the icy waters below as Samantha appeared at the deck with a look of grim satisfaction on her face.

"Another shame," she commented. She looked down, seeing a round green object at her feet.

Her smile quickly dissipated in realization as she teleported away, leaving her soldiers to perish to the last-second grenade.

/

Okay, okay. I have a lot of 'splaining to do.

First thing's first. I've been away for a while. My head has not been able to come up with ANY ideas lately. And if I did, I couldn't think of any way to put it in.

Not to mention a lot of big stuff has been happening lately. Busy stuff. Tests. Keeping things good. Stuff.

I'm really sorry guys.

And don't think I'm saying that hollowly. I mean it.

I noticed literally NO reviews lately, and in no way am I pinning that on you guys.

I honestly was waiting for one or two reviews to motivate me, but last chapter barely got any.

Therefore, I've been checking almost every day, and noticed the traffic has either been IMMENSELY slow, or has stopped completely. I can't tell. So, it's my fault, to be honest.

Another reason is that I've been working with Jakob (yes, he's real) on some art. Y'know, for this story. We've both been drawing, honestly.

Speaking of which, this series is getting Tarot Cards! Holy fucking shit! Just, uh, need to figure out how some of the characters would fit into the Major Arcana.

And uh, some concept art for Jakob might come out soon (today maybe?), just so you guys can get an idea of what he looks like. It will be posted on deviantart. Just look for CoDFicCentral.

Speaking of THAT, check out my other art there.

AND DON'T BE AFRAID TO SEND ME LINKS OF YOUR ART.

I might start a tumblr just to be able to see you guys' stuff. Get more interactive.

AO3 might be a good place for me to post shit too, I guess. Might actually work better…..

Anyways, OTHER NEWS: some of you may have noticed my Undertale story "Gamertale" was deleted. I did that. On purpose.

It wasn't going anywhere, and I haven't updated it in forever, so I didn't see a point in making you guys wait a year. I'm not that type of guy (at least I try not to be). And I'm not joking when I say a year. That's seriously where it was going at that rate.

So, until I get my shit together on THAT, it stays deleted.

Also, for Four Soldiers at Freddy's: that's on a hiatus. I need to think about it a bit, and I've gotten requests for Sister Location. This might be difficult, you see?

Uh, updates may come during this month. I don't really know. Probably next month and December, mostly. Those are, like, almost guaranteed, due to the BREAKS that take place :P

Thanks so much for being patient (or not, you guys could have been planning to find me with chainsaws, I wouldn't know), and I'll try not to make you guys wait again :D

Oh, and look up the translations in this chapter yourselves.

Don't mean to be dickish, but I have other shit to do today.

Seeya guys! ;)


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